Distorted Reflections
by Lizzy Lovegood
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Diana Lark has been unhinged by a certain character's death in the seventh book. However, what happens when she realizes that, not only is Harry Potter's world real, everything the books ever told her and millions of other fans is a lie?
1. Prologue: Six Hundred and Sixty One

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, the awful thing that happened on Page 661, paragraph five would never have happened. . . .

However, I _do _own the Lark family and any other OC's I introduce in this story. Enjoy!

**Distorted Reflections**

**Prologue: Six Hundred and Sixty-One**

_July 21, 2007 - 3:00 AM_

Parker Ave. was a good place to live, by all accounts. The neighbors were always courteous to one another; the lawns were neat and well-manicured, littered though they were with roller blades and bicycles. At night, no rowdy teenagers raced up the streets and smoking was - unofficially - prohibited by all residents.

This was why, sixteen years ago, the Larks had moved in. _To raise a family, _Mrs. Lark had said. _To get some peace and quiet, _the law-abiding Mr. Lark had stated.

And it was certainly peaceful. However tonight, the silence in the Lark household was pervaded by a sense of expectancy. Mr. and Mrs. Lark were asleep in their bed, oblivious to it while the family dog, Snuffles, reclined on the floor next to them. Next door, eight-year-old Amy was sound asleep, dreaming of ice cream and unicorns.

Across the hall was the Larks' oldest daughter, Diana. The sixteen-year-old sat in bed, knees drawn up to her chest, a large book open on her lap. Though her green eyes were bloodshot, she continued to focus on the words before her; next to her was a pile of wadded tissues. Now and then, Diana would let out a small sniffle and quickly grab another tissue, dabbing at her eyes and nose. The only other sounds were those of the flipping of pages and the steady hum of the computer as it downloaded episodes of Mugglecast. All was silent.

Then, a shrill scream split the still night air, part rage and part unbearable loss. Always alert for any sign of danger, Snuffles bounded into Diana's room, barking madly, closely followed by Mr. and Mrs. Lark.

"What's wrong?" Alan Lark asked his daughter, searching the room for any intruder or other disturbance. "Di, honey, what's the matter?" Diana's screams had subsided and she now sat, face buried in her hands, shuddering with sobs.

Rachel Lark laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Diana, dear, what's wrong?" She could only point wordlessly at the book that lay open on the bedspread next to her. "Six h-hundred and sixty-one," she choked out. "P-paragraph five."

Worriedly, Rachel took the book - the book that Diana had been counting down to since Christmas - and thumbed through it. With a concerned Alan leaning over her shoulder, the two read. . . .

_Without a word to Harry, Ron and Hermione walked away. Harry saw Hermione_

_approach Ginny, whose face was swollen and blotchy, and hug her. Ron joined Bill,_

_Fleur, and Percy, who flung an arm around Ron's shoulders. As Ginny and Hermione_

_moved closer to the rest of the family, Harry had a clear view of the bodies lying next to_

_Fred: Remus and Tonks, pale and still and peaceful-looking, apparently asleep beneath_

_the dark enchanted ceiling._

Alan was the first to speak. "Erm . . . Diana, honey. . . ." He stopped mid-speech, realizing he had no idea what he had just read. Half the characters' names were unfamiliar to him - Harry, Ron, and Hermo . . . no, Hermie . . . well _the girl _he knew. Rachel saved him.

"Was it Fred, sweetheart?" she asked, rubbing her daughter's shoulder tenderly. Diana shook her head, hiccups now interspersed with her soft sobs.

_Fred . . . Fred, that was one of that Ron kid's brothers, wasn't it? _Alan wondered. He glanced down at the book again. He had never heard of this _Tonks _person but Remus. That was semi-familiar from the many impromptu lessons in Harry Potter lore Diana had given him. _Wait a second. . . ._

"The werewolf!" he cried suddenly, pointing triumphantly at the book. His daughter turned bloodshot eyes to face him. "It's him, isn't it? The guy who worked at Hogwarts, right? Padfoot . . . no wait, _Moony_ . . . the werewolf?" He stopped again as he realized what he was saying. If Di really was upset about this guy, then. . . .

"_Remus!_" Diana howled, her sobbing increased tenfold. "He's _dead_, Dad, he's _dead_! She killed him, Jo killed him! How could she? _How could she? Remus!_" Whimpering, Snuffles licked her hand. Sobbing still louder, Diana buried her swollen face in the Labrador's fur.

Alan and Rachel could only watch as their daughter broke. . . .

**Note: **Diana's reaction is based roughly on my reaction to Remus Lupin's death, though mine wasn't _as _drastic, nor was it as drastic as what you will see next chapter. I _did _have a memorial service though!

Alan is also based on my dad and how little he knows about Harry Potter but he still attempted to comfort me when I'm upset about something in Harry Potter (including Remus's death).

**Coming Soon: **Chapter One: Two Weeks Later. After two weeks have passed, Diana isn't showing any signs of getting over the death of Remus so her parents make a decision. . . .

Please review and tell me what you thought!


	2. Two Weeks Later

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Remus Lupin . . . or that Harry Potter guy.

I also don't own the song _I Was A Teenage Werewolf_ which is featured in this chapter very briefly. That is by the brilliant band, the Remus Lupins. I also apologize if I didn't get the few lyrics I use from the song entirely right.

After spending a fruitless hour or so searching for the lyrics, I simply located the best YouTube video I could find and attempted to write the ones down that I could distinguish most clearly. If anyone could supply me with the full lyrics to the song, I would be extremely grateful.

**Chapter One: Two Weeks Later**

_August 4, 2007 - 1:00 PM_

"_Hanging out in the Shrieking Shack, but now I won't be going back. . . ._" Diana's voice cracked as she sang along with the words issuing - in sound loud enough to crack eardrums - from her CD player. Tears coursed down her face, onto her dirtied "I Love Werewolves" tee as she watched her computer screen - a slideshow of pictures, all of the same brown-haired, scarred man. She clutched the stuffed wolf Amy had so innocently given her closer to her chest.

The past two weeks had not been good to Diana Lark. Her long brown hair hung around her face, lank and uncombed. She had dropped several pounds as well, for nearly every food seemed to remind her of _Him _in some obscure way or another. This was what she referred to Remus as now - _Him_.

"Diana?" Amy's curly black head of hair bobbed into view in the crack between door and wall.

"What?" Diana managed to croak out, wiping at her eyes with a shredded tissue.

"Mommy said that she wanted you downstairs. She said she wants to talk to you," Amy parroted.

Diana turned away. "Tell Mommy to stuff it," she mumbled in her little sister's direction. Her mother wanted to _talk_? Well, she wasn't _ready _to talk.

Guiltily, she glanced up at the top shelf where she had stuffed the seventh book out of sight, unfinished. She couldn't bear to see what happened, who else was murdered by the savage pen of Joanne Rowling. Let Harry be the hero as usual, let him overcome _His _death and go on with life. It wasn't like Harry was _His _lover after all; it wasn't as if Harry had planned their wedding, their children, their future life together. . . . Diana hugged the toy wolf tighter to her chest.

"Diana? Diana, honey?" Several minutes later, Diana heard her mother's soft tread behind her followed by her father's footsteps, louder and stronger. "Please, dear, can I just talk to you?"

A stony silence was the only reply Rachel Lark got.

"Di, sweetheart. . . ." Rachel tried again but her daughter didn't even seem to acknowledge her presence. Her mother placed a hand on her arm but Diana shrugged it off.

"Diana." Alan spoke now and his voice, though concerned, was much sterner than Rachel's gentle tone. That single word carried much more than anything her mother could have said. Reluctantly, she turned to face her father.

Alan seemed relieved at her reaction and his stern blue eyes softened somewhat. "Honey, your mother and I have been talking. We think you've taken this ma . . . this _character's _death a bit too far. You can't keep doing this. . . ." He was cut off as his daughter mumbled something almost inaudible.

"What is it, dear? Talk to us," Rachel urged, leaning closer to Diana.

"I said, he's not just a character," Diana said, sounding like she was forcefully holding back tears.

"He's a character in a fictional story," Alan repeated firmly. "And you have taken this much too far. Why I let it go on this long. . . ." Rachel hushed at him.

"He's _not_!" Diana cried. "Don't you understand Dad? I _loved _him! He was more than just a character to me. I was _there _when he got bitten by Fenrir and . . . and when he left Hogwarts. And when he was alone all . . . all those years, I was there with him, too! And when he got married and had Teddy and . . . and. . . ." She gulped, tears falling down her cheeks. "And then she _killed_ him Daddy! He had finally found true love and Jo _killed _him! Can't you see, he's _more _than just a character!" She began to cry anew, fresh sobs racking her body.

But Alan had had just about enough. "Diana Marie Lark!" he shouted, ignoring his wife's protests. "You have let this carry on far too long! This Remus Lupin is a character, do you understand me?" Diana flinched at _His_ name but Alan continued on - ruthlessly.

"Tomorrow, you are leaving this room, you are leaving this _house_ and you are going to therapy. Your mother and I have found a good psychologist. He deals with adolescent trauma, he should be able to sort you out in no time."

"Dad, Daddy, _no_!" Diana begged. "I c-can't, I just c-can't! I'm not ready to talk! Daddy, _please_!" Rachel looked as if she wanted to cry with the sixteen-year-old.

"Honey," Rachel whispered, stroking her daughter's hair the way mothers did. "Honey, we're only doing this because we love you."

Diana shrugged off her mother's comforting hand and turned away from the two. "I know what love is and this isn't it," she said, sniffling.

"Di. . . ."

But, except for the occasional dry sob, she remained silent. Alan and Rachel saw no alternative but to leave their daughter to her own devices for the time being.

"Remember, Diana, be ready to leave tomorrow for ten," Alan stated firmly, reaching for the doorknob. She neither acknowledged him nor said anything to try and dissuade him which he took to mean that she had heard and understood.

However, he and Rachel had barely shut the door behind them before Diana's high voice - intermitted with sniffles and dry sobs - sounded from behind the door.

"_I was a teenage werewolf doing the best that I can, but no one understands. . . ._"

**Note: **So, did you like the chapter? I'm sorry it's another short one; I thought this one was longer than it actually is, so when I checked Word Count, I was very upset. The next one will be longer, I promise!

**Coming Soon: **Chapter Two: Dr. Hansworth - Diana reluctantly goes to therapy and discovers something shocking at home.


	3. Doctor Hansworth

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, do you really that I would be sitting here in my ratty bathrobe uploading this for you guys?

No, I thought not.

**Author's Note: **I am tremendously sorry on how long it took me to get this up. School plus work plus a relationship with my boyfriend equal not much time to write fan fiction.

**Dedication: **Yeah, I've decided that for every chapter/story I publish I will thank someone - either animate or inanimate - for their inspiration.

So . . . dedicated to ginseng herbal supplements that helped me stay awake enough to type the last bit of this chapter. I LOVE YOU GINSENG!! And I LOVE YOU Matt (aka **crapmuffins** on ) for buying me the ginseng!

**Chapter Two: Dr. Hansworth**

_August 5, 2007 - 10:30 AM_

The table in the waiting room was scattered with magazines - _People_, _Times_, _Reader's Digest_ - all overlapping each other on the cluttered, rickety tables. Rachel was currently engrossed in the former; Diana, however, averted her eyes from this horrible sight. She could hardly stand it. . . .

All this, all of these magazines, proclaimed the release of the seventh and final _Harry Potter _book There were quotes from fans who had gathered for the midnight release parties across the country - Diana among them - and interviews with the murderous author herself, Joanne Rowling. She had said the seventh book was _her favorite_, Diana had seen that in a previous interview - as she had avidly followed the trail of news leading up to July twenty-first - and it had made her all the more excited to read it.

Her fists clenched convulsively at the thought. That . . . that _cold-hearted murderess _had led them on, led them all on with tantalizing hints and heart-wrenching plot twists, and then . . . she had killed him. _Him. _And now, these magazines were acting as if it was something to rejoice about? She felt nausea well up in her throat. How many other lives had been torn apart at the loss of _Him_? Or maybe Fred, Moody, Snape, _Dobby_ - any of the others Miss Rowling's pen had so callously destroyed?

"Di? Diana, honey?" Slowly, ever so slowly, she met her mother's worried gaze with her own bloodshot orbs. Clasping her daughter's hand, Rachel nodded toward the receptionist who was standing by the office door, smiling in a slightly strained fashion as she tapped her pump-clad foot impatiently. Rachel paid no attention as she turned to her daughter once again.

"Would you like me to come in with you?" her mother queried concernedly.

"No . . . no thanks Mom. I . . . I think I'll be okay," Diana replied, standing up and meeting her mother's gaze as steadily as she could. She had no desire whatsoever to have Rachel repeat everything said in that office back to her father the moment they arrived home.

Alan had given her a hard enough time about this as it was. Not to mention that he had completely overreacted when, upon barging into her room, he had found her sobbing over - of all things - her calendar.

"It's a full moon!" she had cried upon spotting her father in the doorway. "It's a full moon, Dad, and . . . and _H-He _won't be here f-for it!"

What had followed had not been at all pretty, but had involved Alan's shouts, more of his daughter's hysterical sobs, and the destiny of a certain stuffed wolf.

"You're not acting like yourself, Di," he had said in a voice of forced calm. "I'm _trying _to help you." Rachel had backed him up, she could expect no help from her mother this time.

This was "help" was it? This balding, dark-blonde man sitting in front of her was supposed to _help _her? All he had done so far was sit there and _watch _her.

Of course, that could be the fact that she'd been in his office just under thirty seconds.

But _still_. . . .

"So, Diana," he finally started, "I am Arthur Hansworth." She noticed his voice was slightly squeaky, it reminded her of Wormtail. She had always _hated _Wormtail.

"I figured that, seeing as your name's right on the door," she retorted sullenly, slumping down in her chair.

The doctor looked slightly put-off for a moment but quickly recovered, giving her a warm smile, one that made his blue eyes crinkle at the corners. Diana returned with a glare. _Wormtail, Wormtail, Wormtail._

"Yes, that was silly of me, wasn't it?" Hansworth said with a condescending laugh. "Of course an intelligent girl like you would have realized that. And you _are _intelligent, are you not, dear? Your parents told me you like to read a lot. Is that true?"

She shrugged, obstinately. "Yeah."

"What do you like to read?" The doctor looked relieved that their conversation was taking the correct turn.

"Fantasy, mostly," Diana mumbled.

"Like . . . oh, what's it called . . . _Harry Potter_, isn't it? I hear that the newest one just came out."

Diana didn't believe this charade for an instant. Why couldn't the man just get to the point, why did he have to sneak around it? Just like Wormtail. . . . "I guess."

"Did you like the book, Diana? I heard that Harry Potter might die in this one."

Diana didn't answer now, she couldn't. They had gotten to the point - finally - what her parents most wanted her to discuss and simply "get over" but she found she had lost the ability to speak.

No, Harry hadn't died . . . as far as she knew. At this point, she almost wished he had, then at least _He _would still be alive. _He _would have been able to fix everything, even if no one else could; after all, _He _had been a professor. While Harry was just a stupid, useless hero who had been happy to let _Him _die as long as it was for "the greater good." He made her _sick_.

Her face must have betrayed some of her distress because Hansworth leaned forward, his blue eyes filled with concern. "Diana," he said, gently yet probingly, "I also heard that you suffered a . . . loss, quite recently, from this book. Would you like to tell me about that?"

And she might have - just maybe - if it hadn't been for the slight twitching at the corners of his mouth. He was _laughing_? This high and mighty psychologist found her grief _amusing_? Her fists clenched, then, just as suddenly, relaxed. Yes, of course . . . of course Wormtail would be amused by this predicament. His best friends, the men he betrayed - dead. _He _had been the last of them. She wasn't sure exactly how he had survived, but she'd deal with that later; all that mattered was avenging _His _death.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, Doctor, I did."

"Please, dear, call me Arthur."

_Very clever, taking the name of the father of the family you once lived with. Very clever, Peter. _"Arthur, then. Yes, I did lose a . . . a loved one."

"And who was it?"

Diana sucked in a deep breath. _This is for you, Remus. _"Remus Lupin." She winced slightly at the name, but she didn't have time to worry about that now. She quickly turned to the "Doctor," watching his face for any signs of guilt that his comrades-in-arms had killed his former best friend.

"Remus Lupin," Peter repeated. "I'm afraid I am not familiar with that character . . . he is a character, I suppose. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Diana's fingers dug into the arms of her chair. She had tired of this charade, here she was mentioning _His _very name and the pathetic man was acting as if he had never even heard it before! The sixteen-year-old stood up, her face contorted with a mixture of rage and grief.

"Like you don't know," she hissed. She could feel the tears welling up but forcefully pushed them back.

And still, _still _he acted clueless! "Know what, Diana?" Diana had just about reached the end of her rope.

"That he was killed by _your _people!" she all but shouted, tearing at her still-tangled brown hair in pure frustration. "Antonin Dolohov - does that ring a bell in your tiny, little brain Peter? Or, if you prefer, _Wormtail_?!"

"P-Peter?" he stuttered, pulling nervously at the collar of his shirt - Diana gave another cry of frustration - with the air of a man desperately trying to keep himself together. "Diana, I informed you my name was Arthur. As to this Dolohov character, I have no idea. . . ."

"Oh, you're still keeping up your little charade then, are you?" she demanded, banging a fist on the wood-paneled desk. "How about I give you a little hint then, Wormy, hmm? _He was the one who killed Remus!_ And don't even try to deny it!" she screeched, for Peter had opened his mouth in protest.

"I bet you were talking up to him in all those cozy little Death Eater, sessions, weren't you? Him, Snape, even the bloody Carrows, because they're all higher up than you, aren't they? You're nothing, nothing, you pathetic little rat! Aren't you, _aren't you_?"

Silence answered her.

"Well, _answer_!" Reaching over the desk, she made to grab the man by the collar. But Arthur Hansworth - for he _was_ Arthur Hansworth, regardless about what this girl was raving about - had had just about enough.

Held in extreme regard by his fellows and patients alike, he had dealt with many disturbing cases in his lifetime. As he remembered, there was one man who had believed himself to be part alien. But this . . . this was not crazy, this was not disturbing. Here was a teenage girl claiming him to be in league with a group of fictional characters and to be the murderer of yet another fictional character. _This _was just plain ridiculous, albeit a dangerous sort of ridiculous; he was not about to sit here and be man-handled by any patient. And so, Arthur Hansworth did what any man - regardless of prestige or wealth, or, perhaps, because of it - would do in his situation.

"Security!"

**. . .**

"I am _so _sorry." That was all Rachel Lark could say as she leaned across the wooden desk toward the psychologist, wringing her hands in a nervous, pleading gesture. She could not help but notice, however, that the esteemed doctor shifted slightly in his seat as she moved closer to him.

"I am so sorry, Doctor," she repeated as if saying it again could erase what had just happened. That, if she apologized enough, she could somehow make herself forget the fact that her daughter - her first-born, her _Diana_ - had exited the office flanked by a huge security guard, tears streaming down her face as she raved about something to do with Peter Pettigrew's alleged death, Antonin Dolohov, and Remus Lupin.

"My daughter is . . . experiencing incredible emotional trauma right now, sir. She has never acted like this before, I assure you. Surely you must understand, I mean you must have dealt with patients far worse off than my daughter." She gave an airy laugh to cover her nervousness. _Oh God, what will Alan say?_

"I have, Mrs. Lark." Hansworth chose to answer the latter part of her statement first. "I have had cases where my patients have been abused, seen family die in terrible, _terrible_ ways, even suffered near-death experiences themselves. You say that Diana, Mrs. Lark, is experiencing _incredible emotional trauma_ -" a small sneer graced his face at these words - "over the death of a fictional character. Not only that, but she attempted to _attack _me when she believed me to be a certain other character. As to who I have no. . . ."

"Peter Pettigrew," Rachel stated, almost condescendingly. "He was nicknamed Wormtail for being able to change into a rat. He betrayed all of his friends to Voldemort. Tell me _Doctor_, have you even read this series?" She raised an eyebrow, testing him. . . .

"I don't have to read such an infantile series of books to know what advice to give to you," Hansworth retorted. "To put it bluntly, Mrs. Lark your daughter needs to get. Over. It. I will _not_ take such a ridiculous case as this, especially if I am to be harassed by my patient and _her mother_." The doctor narrowed his eyes at the middle-aged woman sitting before him.

But Rachel had had just about enough. Standing up, she towered over the dumpy doctor, seeing him in a most unfavorable light. It was funny, when she and Alan had met with him just over a week ago, she had found him to be quite pleasant and good-natured. Of course, they hadn't explained the extent of Diana's distress - hadn't explained how she cried over pancakes in the shape of the moon or how she clung tenaciously to a stuffed wolf her sister had lent her.

However, right now Rachel Lark didn't care about that. She didn't care what Alan would say when they got home a half-hour early, she didn't care that Hansworth looked about a second away from calling in the same pair of security guards for her as well. All she cared about was that this man - this pudgy, little man - was treating _her_ Diana's case so callously. He didn't know how broken up Diana had been the past two weeks, how her condition had steadily deteriorated since late July and how it had broken her - Rachel's - heart to not to be able to say anything to make it better, to convince this man that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. And now . . . now she could. . . .

But she didn't.

"If you won't," she hissed, pointing a heavily-bitten nail straight at Hansworth's flabby face, "then I'll find someone who will."

**. . .**

Diana sat, fuming on a bench outside the office. How could they not see it? _How? _Normally, of course, she would have been thanking Merlin that nothing worse had happened to her and praising her mother's talent of persuasion to high heaven. What had just happened, however, was nowhere near 'normal' and now. . . .

She sighed heavily. If only she have only had a few more moments with Peter - for, whatever he said to the contrary, she was quite convinced it was he - she could have made him confess! Then everyone would have believed her, they would have _had _to believe her. The sixteen-year-old kicked at a wastepaper basket and let out a frustrated sigh.

Another vexed exclamation abruptly invaded Diana's thoughts and her head shot up, surprised, to see a frizzy-haired, haphazardly-dressed woman glaring at an office door a few feet away from where she sat.

"Can't believe that he didn't even call to reschedule," she muttered mutinously, stalking back down the hall in a high temper. "_Family emergency_, ha! You'll sure have an emergency when _I'm _through with you, Mr. Linnaeus!" She gesticulated wildly, continuing to talk to thin air as she rounded the corner, seemingly oblivious to Diana's presence.

Diana's eyebrows knit together in faint curiosity and, having little else better to do, she got up from the bench that she had been placed - rather forcefully - upon several minutes earlier; she approached the door almost sneakily and studying the bronze plaque that adorned its' white-painted surface.

**Thaddeus R. Linnaeus**

_**General Psychologist**_

And, below this, was a hastily scribbled note.

_Due to an unexpected family emergency, I will not be in today. All appointments_

_will be rearranged at the patient's convenience. May I offer my most sincere apologies_

_for any inconvenience caused._

_-Thaddeus Linnaeus_

Words and phrases leaped out at Diana from the simple piece of notepad paper. _Unexpected . . . emergency . . . sincere apologies. . . ._ _Thaddeus . . . Thaddeus Linnaeus_.

"Diana? _Diana? _Di, honey, are you alright?"

"Wha-what?" She tore her gaze away from the hastily scribbled note with difficulty.

"Are you alright?" Rachel repeated patiently. "You looked a bit out of it for a moment there." Rachel Lark gave a nervous laugh, quickly shifting her expression from that of pure rage to one of motherly affection.

"Yeah . . . yeah, I'm fine. . . ." The sixteen-year-old drifted off again, returning her green orbs to the door before her.

"Diana -" Rachel stifled another nervous giggle - "what _are _you looking at?" Coming to stand beside her daughter she, too, glanced over the two signs. Diana watched her mother's mouth form the words 'General Psychologist' before glancing back down to the note taped to the door.

And then . . . why, Diana had never seen her mother look like that before. Rachel Lark's face had been transformed into one of pure ecstasy, something Diana would have normally associated - before that fateful day, fifteen days ago now - with the release of a new _Harry Potter_ book or movie, or other useless piece of merchandise. None of it really mattered now, anyway - not now, that _He _was gone. Yes, _He _was gone and she would have to go back to that rubbish psychologist who no one believed was _actually _Wormtail and let the little rat rub it in her face that _He _- Remus - was dead and. . . .

"We'll have to check this Linnaeus man out."

Diana's head shot up. "Check him out? Mom, are you serious?" She couldn't stop her voice from squeaking on the last few syllables. However, her mother didn't answer, she was striding down the corridor much as the frizzy-haired woman had, and Diana hurried to keep up.

"Mom, what about Hans-"

"Oh, we're done with _him_, dear, don't you worry." Rachel waved an airy hand but Diana could not help but notice a slightly icy edge to her mother's voice.

"What about Dad?"

Rachel didn't answer. Now she was stopping quickly at the front desk and jotting down the number the receptionist gave her, quickly scribbling the name _T. Linnaeus_ next to it. And now she was babbling on about school shopping that needed to get done and a funny article she had read in the paper the other day.

However, Diana didn't care about any of this now - she didn't care about the _adorable shoes _that were on sale at Kohl's or the man who ran a poop-scooping business. All Diana Marie Lark could think of was how Thaddeus R. Linnaeus had been so suspiciously absent on the day of the full moon.

**Author's Note: **Yes, I _know _it didn't follow the "Coming Soon" plot at the end of last chapter. But, hey . . . it's been awhile since I updated and my muse led the plot in a different direction than I intended. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it!

**Coming Whenever I Get A Chance to Write It (Which is Hopefully Soon): **Chapter Three: Thaddeus Linnaeus will include (tentatively):

Alan and Rachel clash over their daugther's well-being.

Diana goes to her first session with Dr. Linnaeus and begins to build a theory.

All this and more in Chapter Three! Dun, dun, _**dun**_**. . . .**


	4. Thaddeus Linnaeus

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it. Never will. End of story. Also, Remus (just because I felt like adding his name in randomly). :p

**Note: **Wow, how many months has it been since I've updated. Six, seven? _Sorry!_ But I won't bore you with excuses - not that I have any. I'll just let you read the continuing saga of Diana Lark. Plus, it's the longest chapter yet! YAY!

Also, this chapter is dedicated to Burger King (wow, I can't believe I'd ever say that) because, for some reason, after getting off a closing shift at BK, my creative juices seem to flow at their best. This means I usually get to sleep around two AM. No, this is not particularly healthy with finals coming up, but hey, it's Harry Potter!

**Chapter Three: Thaddeus Linnaeus**

_August 6, 2007 - 2:00 PM_

"I just can't believe you would do something like this!" Alan Lark shouted, banging his fist on the marble countertop, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room. "Haven't I taught you better than this? Haven't I, Diana?" he demanded.

"Alan, please, you're not even letting her explain. . . ."

"_Explain?_" Alan cried, running a hand through his brown hair - disheveled from his fit of temper - as he turned to his wife. "What is there to explain, Rachel? Our daughter - our sixteen-year-old daughter - verbally harassed her own doctor and a colleague of mine. I quite believe she would have assaulted him if security hadn't been called in."

"But Alan, please-"

"_Then_," Alan continued in a raised tone, "and this is the part that _really_ sickens me, Rach. A distressed teenage girl, yes . . . but when a grown woman threatens a man who is merely trying to advise you as to how to deal with this. . . ."

"Deal with _this_?" Rachel exclaimed vehemently. "_This_ is your daughter, Alan! And I can tell you exactly how he wanted to deal with it. He just wants her to forget it as if it's never happened. . . ."

"And she _should_! He was a _character _for Christ's sake!"

"He was more than a character to her, Alan!" Then, "I should've known you'd never understand."

"There's nothing to _understand_! It's a goddamn series!"

"A series that she has been - been almost _possessed _by for the last decade as you well know, Alan!"

"'Possessed by' - that's exactly my point, Rach!" Alan repeated, jabbing a finger at his wife. "Don't you see, it is _unhealthy _for our daughter to be this - this _fanatical _about a mere series. I thought it was just a phase, that it would pass . . . but now. . . ." He trailed off, then, "All you're doing is coddling her by letting her get away with this!"

Diana winced at the hurt expression on her mother's face. Although Diana loved her father, she almost leapt to her mother's defense at his barbed retort. After all, it was _Rachel _who had raised her and Amy, it was _Rachel_ who had become the dull stay-at-home mom while Alan had become part of some fancy lawyer's firm. And now _Alan_ thought he had the right to tell his wife how to properly raise her two daughters, what to do and not do. . . .

Why, compared to their mother, Alan barely knew his daughters.

It was her mother who cared about her enough to defy Alan, verbally harass his arrogant colleague, and lie to him about what had transpired at the appointment with Hansworth.

The previous afternoon, even, Rachel had simply stated that the appointment had gone "just fine" while preparing her husband's favorite dinner. Diana, following her mother's lead, had said that she "felt better."

It would have all worked out if it hadn't been for the phone call.

The small family had been gathered in the kitchen for lunch, when it had rang and Alan, who had been closest, had picked it up.

"Hello?" he had answered in his customary deep tone. There was a murmur on the other end of the line and Alan's face abruptly darkened. "I see. . . . No, I wasn't aware - yes, yes, ma'am, I can assure you the situation _will _be dealt with." It would have almost sounded as if he were talking to one of his clients - that is, if his stern gaze had not been directly fixated on Diana and Rachel. The two women exchanged an anxious glance. _This _certainly couldn't mean anything good.

Indeed, it wasn't.

From the information Diana had managed to gather amidst her father's raging, it seemed that "Hansworth's" office had called both to ensure that Diana was not, under any circumstances, returning and to make certain that "the entire family" was aware of the situation. Of course - Diana had learned - by "the entire family" Hansworth had meant Alan, an old friend and colleague.

_Quite convenient, that. But why would Dad, of all people, be associated with someone like Wormtail?_

"-didn't even see fit to tell me?" Diana was abruptly jolted back to reality from yet another irate cry from Alan's end.

"Well, it only just happened, Alan. Don't lose your head, please?" Rachel replied pleadingly.

"_It only just happened?_" Alan mimicked, almost mockingly. "It happened _yesterday_, Rach. The same exact day that you had that . . . that _incident _with Hansworth - one of the best in his field, I might add. . . . That _same exact day_, you decide to defy me and take our daughter to some obscure man that you've never even heard of before? A man who took a leave of absence that very day so you couldn't even check him out? Suspicious, if you ask me. . . ."

Rachel opened her mouth to retort, but now Alan had moved in for the kill.

"And do you honestly want to put Diana in danger, Rach? _Our _Diana?"

Diana winced at the cruelly calculated remark, fully expecting her mother to back down, to nod and become a dutiful wife once more. Her green eyes widened as she watched Rachel glare at her husband, as if she were seeing him for the first time.

"_Our _Diana, Alan?" she repeated. Her voice was soft, but every word radiated with power. "When you start being a father to her again, let me know, alright?"

Alan could only open and shut his mouth, grasping for words but - for once - unable to find them. He could only gaze, transfixed, into his wife's taut face. It was almost as if they had forgotten Diana was in the room.

"Diana, go to your room, please," Rachel finally said. "I've got to make a call to Doctor Linnaeus's."

Nodding, the sixteen-year-old slowly left the kitchen, darting a last glance back at her father who still could not seem to find his voice. Slowly, she walked down the hall and up the stairs; slowly she entered her room. Slowly, she closed the door. Only then, did Alan Lark explode.

**. . .**

_4:30 PM_

Diana didn't know how much time had passed when she next heard a knock on her door. Mournfully humming the last few notes of _Expecto Patronum_, she gave a vague, noncommittal grunt that her visitor could take as an invitation or a rejection.

Personally, she was hoping for the latter; she definitely wasn't looking forward to being lectured by her father again. Even if Rachel had worn him down, Alan Lark was still a formidable presence to both his daughters.

Therefore, Diana was startled when, instead of her father, Rachel entered the room, eyes slightly bloodshot but smiling nonetheless.

"Wha-" Diana started, but her mother interrupted.

"Your appointment with Dr. Linnaeus is at eleven o'clock tomorrow." There was a triumphant gleam in her eyes that both fascinated and frightened Diana.

"Mom. . . ."

"The woman I spoke to was very nice. Mary, I think her name was. Yes, that was it. . . ."

"Mom. . . ."

"Oh, and I have to bring Amy to ballet tomorrow, but I'll be there to drop you off and pick you up. That's alright with you, isn't it? If you really want me to, I could come in with you. I could work something out, I. . . ."

"_Mom!_" Rachel's babbling was abruptly cut to a halt.

"Yes, dear?" The triumphant gleam had faded from Rachel's eyes now and she had, once again, transformed into the loving, domestic mother. Diana was, at once, both relieved and disappointed. She could not remember the last time Rachel had acted like that toward anyone, let alone her own husband, the man she doted upon and altogether adored! Most of the time, anyway. . . .

However now, once again, her mother's quizzical blue eyes were fixed directly on her.

"Yes Di, what is it?" she repeated.

"Erm . . . well, how did Dad take it?" Diana asked. "I mean . . . I heard him yelling from up here. . . ." At her mother's pained expression, she continued hastily, "I mean, it's not that I'm not happy about what you did, it's just. . . ."

This time, Rachel cut her off. "Don't worry about your father, Diana," she said simply.

"But how did he take it?"

"You saw how he took it. But I convinced him. That's all that matters." Rachel spoke curtly, yet another tone that Diana had rarely heard her use.

"But. . . ."

"Diana," Rachel said and her voice seemed on the point of breaking. "Please just _don't_. You're going to see Dr. Linnaeus tomorrow. Your father won't bother you about it. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Without another word, Rachel fled the room, leaving a very confused daughter in her wake.

**. . .**

_August 7, 2007 - 10:55 AM_

"Excuse me, Diana Lark is here for an appointment with Dr. Linnaeus." Rachel Lark spoke authoritatively to the blonde, bubblegum-chewing secretary.

"What time?" the secretary - Diana could only assume that this was Mary - asked, popping her gum as she looked down at the schedule, spread full-length across the cluttered desk.

"Eleven."

"Oh, right on time then, aren't you?" Mary replied, laughing. A piece of gum landed in her hair, making Amy giggle. Rachel managed to spread an ingratiating smile over her face, while Diana fixed her eyes on the blonde secretary. Mary stared right back; her eyes were a very odd shade of green, or perhaps they were different shades - emerald, neon, forest - all blending and undulating together. Diana was amazed by it.

"The doctor is ready for you right now if you want to step into the office," she said finally, nodding to Diana with a smile.

"Okay."

"You're sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Rachel asked her daughter.

"No, I'll be fine."

"Alright, I'll be back to pick you up around twelve. You know my cell, right?"

"_Yes_, Mom."

"Okay . . . okay. . . ."

"Mommy, we're gonna be late!" Amy protested. "Ballet, _remember_?" She gestured at the pink tutu she had insisted on wearing over her T-shirt and jeans.

"Yes honey, I know. Well, bye Di." And, giving her a quick kiss on the head, her mother was gone. Shuffling awkwardly, Diana averted her eyes to her scuffed sneakers; she felt surprisingly self-conscious now under Mary's unblinking stare.

Perhaps noticing her discomfort, the woman offered a benevolent smile and nodded toward the door directly behind her. "You're welcome to head on in, he's all ready for you," she repeated. She stumbled slightly as she rose from her swivel chair and led Diana to the door, decorated with the same bronze plaque - _Thaddeus R. Linnaeus, General Psychologist_.

"_Mister T!_" Mary called liltingly through the door. "Your eleven o'clock's here to see you!"

"Mary, how many times do I have to tell you _not _to call me that?" A grumpy voice - yet one obviously fighting to hide his amusement - emanated from behind the door.

"But it suits you so well." Mary laughed as she flung open the door to reveal a spacious office in the middle of which stood a middle-aged man, attempting to glare menacingly at his secretary. And failing miserably.

"Don't worry, his bark's worse than his bite," Mary stage-whispered to the girl. "Have fun you two!" she called cheerily just as Linnaeus's grim demeanor softened into a smile.

For a moment, Diana hovered nervously in the doorway, watching as the psychologist seated himself behind the desk. "You're welcome to sit down," he said finally. "I don't bite, you know."

Nodding vaguely, the sixteen-year-old sank into the cushy armchair across from the psychologist.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Diana," Linnaeus said kindly once Diana had settled herself comfortably into the armchair. He extended a large, hairy hand to the girl. "I am Doctor Linnaeus." Silently, Diana took it, studying the man before her.

His face was thin and careworn, framed by neatly combed dark blonde hair that reached his chin along with a matching goatee. His eyes turned up at the corners as Diana studied him and he gave the teenager a sincere smile. Diana noticed that he had dimples when he smiled and - for some reason - that solidified her trust in him.

"Nice to meet you, too," she said politely and Linnaeus smiled again.

"So," he said, adopting a more business-like tone yet still maintaining a friendly air, "your mother called on your behalf, Diana. But I'm afraid she didn't expand too much on the problem. I do realize it pertains to the release of the new Harry Potter book, but not much else I'm afraid. Could you do me the courtesy of enlightening me?" Clasping his hands together, Linnaeus leaned forward, a kind and curious on his pale face.

"Well," Diana began uncertainly, but at Linnaeus's unwavering expression she forced herself to continue, "I guess it all started seven years ago. I was ten then." Once again, she searched the psychologist's face for skepticism or impatience, even mockery.

But there was none, he merely gestured for her to go on. . . .

**. . . **

_June 23, 2000_

"Mom, Mommy, can I open my presents _now_?"

Rachel's only answer was to spread another layer of frosting over the chocolate cake.

"_Mom?_"

"Not yet, dear," Rachel answered, as patiently as she could. "Why don't you wait until we have some cake? It's your favorite. . . ."

"But I want them _now_!" the ten-year-old Diana protested. "Daddy," she whined, turning to her father. "Can I open just _one _present? _Please? _Just one, I promise and then I won't bug you about it anymore."

Glancing at his exasperated wife, Alan gave a small smile before turning to his elder daughter. "Okay, Di. Just the one though, alright?"

"Alan. . . ."

"Rach, it's her birthday. Let the kid have some fun."

"That's right, let me have some fun, Mom!" Diana parroted. "I wanna open Auntie Winnie's present first," she announced before either Alan or Rachel could retort. As she took a brightly-wrapped gift box from the pile, her parents exchanged glances. And she could understand why. Her Aunt Winifred always sent her the best gifts which her parents _never _let her have. Why, last year, she had almost gotten her very own TV, but Alan had resolutely returned it. She had gotten a radio instead which wasn't nearly as cool. . . .

"Did you talk to Winifred?" she heard her father ask her mother.

"Not recently," Rachel said, wincing. "Last I heard she was dead-set on that phone." She whispered the last few words.

"Oh, she had _better _not."

Ignoring her parents' mumbling for the time being, Diana frantically tore open the wrapping paper, ignoring the festive card altogether. And out fell . . . a box? No. At closer inspection, Diana saw it was a boxed set of books.

"Well, isn't _that _nice?" her mother exclaimed in that infuriating way mothers have. "Let's see here . . . _Harry Potter, Books 1-4_," she said, perusing the packaging.

"I've heard of those," Alan chimed in. "It seems they're pretty popular nowadays."

"They're _books_, though," Diana said, scrunching up her nose. "And they're so _big_."

"You'll have plenty of reading to do over vacation then, won't you?" Alan said, handing the set of books to his daughter.

"I'm not a _geek_, Dad!"

"_Geek, geek, geek!_" two-year-old Amy mimicked from her highchair, pointing at her big sister.

"Shut up!" the older girl cried and, before anyone could stop her, ran out of the room with the clunky boxed set in tow. Throwing it into the garbage, she slammed the bedroom door behind her.

**. . .**

Diana's face flushed as Linnaeus raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Yeah, I know," she said, wincing as the psychologist's expression did not fade but rather, deepened. "It wasn't my proudest moment."

Linnaeus chuckled ingratiatingly and Diana felt herself relax.

"But I warmed up to it," she continued more confidently. "I mean, after it had sat on my shelf for a couple of months. . . ."

**. . .**

_August 28, 2000_

"Oh. My. God."

"Ow! Kate, what the. . .?" Diana picked herself up from the floor and turned to her best friend who had stopped dead and was gazing, apparently transfixed, at the beige wall of the movie theater displaying "Coming Soon" advertisements. Kate neither answered or turned around at Diana's annoyed expression.

"Kate?"

It was only then, with a jolt, that Kaitlyn Maxwell returned to life. "Oh. My. _God!_ Di, can you believe it? Can you really, truly believe it? This is really happening. Ohmygawd, this is really happening! Oh, Di, pinch me!" Kate extended her upper arm to her friend.

"What?"

"Never mind!" her insane friend cried, lunging forward and throwing her arms around a poster. "Di!" she cried, turning to her friend who was - along with other moviegoers - was inching away warily. "Di, come here! Come bask in it!"

"Bask in it? What are you talking about, you nut?"

Eyes bright, Kate turned to her and gestured grandly at the promotional poster. "Can you believe it, Di?" she exclaimed excitedly.

"'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone,'" Diana read. "Coming soon to a theater near you." She felt a flicker of recognition and her stomach gave an unpleasant jolt.

"Harry Potter," she repeated, attempting to sound nonchalant. "That's a book, isn't it?"

"Duh, it's a book, Di!" Kate retorted, looking incredulous. "Where have you _been _for the last few years?"

"Huh?"

"It's all over the place, Di! Everyone's reading it and I mean _everyone_!"

Diana raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Like, you know Sam Forrester? Even _he _was caught reading the first book when he got detention a few weeks ago. Mike told me and he heard it from Emily and she's Sam's ex-girlfriend so. . . ."

"Okay!" Diana exclaimed. "Okay, Kate, I get the picture."

"I can't believe you haven't read them yet!" Kate said, shaking her finger in Diana's direction. "I'll have to let you borrow my copies."

"No, that's okay," Diana said hastily. "I'm pretty sure I'll be able to persuade my parents to get them for me. They're always bugging me to do something 'educational,' you know?" She laughed dryly.

Maybe reading wasn't for geeks, after all. . . .

**. . .**

"I finished the first book the next day. And . . . oh, I just. . . . I fell in love!"

"With Harry?" Linnaeus queried. "Was it his death that disturbed you so?"

"Well, no . . . I just loved the book itself! The plot and the characters. Do you know every time - _every time_ - I read that scene with the Devil's Snare, I laugh out loud?"

"And didn't you like the others as well? Why not the last one?"

"Because," Diana began, voice shaking slightly, "because after the third book everything changed. . . ."

**. . .**

"_Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window._

"_Professor R.J. Lupin," whispered Hermione at once._

_. . ._

_Professor Lupin had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around, and said, with a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know. . . ."_

_. . ._

"_This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."_

_He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "_Waddiwasi!_" and pointed it at Peeves._

_. . ._

_In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class._

_. . ._

"_I see," said Lupin thoughtfully. "Well, well . . . I'm impressed." He smiled slightly a the look of surprise on Harry's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is - fear. Very wise, Harry."_

_. . ._

"_Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."_

_. . ._

"_Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them - gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."_

_. . ._

"_Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said. "Only one out of the three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead. . . ." An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."_

_. . ._

"_My transformations in those days were - were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead."_

_. . ._

"_. . . .We were young, thoughtless - carried away with our own cleverness."_

_. . ._

"_From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned. . . . Tell me about your Patronus."_

_. . ._

"_And . . ." He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher so I don't feel guilty about giving you this back as well. It's no use to me and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it."_

**. . .**

Slowly, shakily, Diana lowered the book she had been reading, placing it solidly on her lap. For a few moments she sat, merely stroking the book, eyes roving rapidly over the dust jacket.

There was Harry and Hermione sitting astride a rearing Buckbeak.

There was the silhouette of Sirius Black against the plate-glass window.

There was the moon, covered by scudding clouds, yet still lighting up the Hogwarts grounds enough to show a cat, arching its' back and a wolf, running across the grounds. Diana's finger stroked across the tiny picture. . . .

No scratch that. Not wolf – _werewolf_.

Remus Lupin – werewolf.

_Remus._

Hugging the book to her chest, Diana bounded down the stairs and ran into the kitchen to grab the phone.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Alan asked amusedly, looking up from where he was attempting to feed three-year-old Amy.

"Di is finally reading those Harry Potter books Winifred got her." Rachel answered for her daughter and Diana sent her a grateful smile.

"Really?" Alan's eyes widened as Amy took the chance to throw some applesauce at her father's face.

"Oh, sh –"

"Alan!"

Grabbing the phone from its' holster, Diana yelled, "I'm gonna call Kate, okay?" and ran up to her room again.

_Briing._

_Briing._

"Hey!" Kate's excited voice picked up after two rings. "Did you finish Book Four yet?"

"No, I -"

"It's _so _sad, isn't it? I mean I was crying when I finished it. Like, seriously crying. No joke."

"Kate –"

"And of course my parents wouldn't listen when I told them about it. They were like, 'It's just a book, Katie,' and I was like. . . ."

"Kate!" Diana exclaimed. "I didn't even _start _reading Book Four yet. I just finished Book Three. It's just -"

"Just what?" Kate asked immediately, her curiosity peaked.

"It's just . . . I think I'm in love," Diana said hesitantly.

Kate squealed in excitement. "Oh my God, Di, why didn't you tell me sooner? _Who?_ Go on, Di, who is it? I promise I won't tell anyone. Because Matt told me that Sam told _him _that he has a crush on you." She said these last few words in a sing-song voice.

"No, Kate, it's not a person. Well, not _really _a person, I guess. It's . . . it's a character."

"A character?" Kate repeated. "Like, from Harry Potter? Who is it . . . ooh, is it Cedric?"

"Cedric? You mean the kid who beat Harry in the Quidditch match?"

"No! I mean . . . oh yeah, I forgot you haven't read the next book yet. You better hurry up and do that, I need to talk to _someone _about it! Anyway . . . who is it? Ron?"

"Eww, no!" Diana squealed. "It's Remus."

Silence from the other end of the line was her only answer. Diana could just see the confused expression on her best friend's face.

"Lupin?" she prompted. "You know, the werewolf?"

"Remus _Lupin_?" Kate shrieked. "But he's so old. He's like, twenty years older than you, I bet. And . . . I mean, he's poor! And . . . and _ugly_!"

"But he's so sweet and smart and reasonable," Diana cooed. "And he is most definitely _not _ugly!" she continued in a more resentful tone.

The other girl snorted. "Di, please, he's a _character_."

"So? Cedric's a character, too. And he's not even that great. He seems kind of stupid to me."

"Hey, don't you talk about Ceddy-poo like that!"

It was Diana's turn to snort. "_Ceddy-poo?_ Well, don't you talk about _my _Remmy, then."

"I wasn't. I was _trying _to make a point!"

"Were too!"

"Were not!"

"Were _too_!"

"Were _not_!"

Now there was silence from both ends as both girls seethed in their mutual anger.

Then, "Katie?"

"Yeah, Di?"

"I _really _like Harry Potter. I mean – I think I love it."

Kate sounded amused. "I don't think Remmy would be too happy about that, Di."

At which both girls dissolved into indecipherable giggles.

**. . .**

_June 21, 2003, 11:30 PM_

"I can't wait, I can't wait!" Diana squealed, barely able to contain her excitement.

A few people gave the two thirteen-year-olds odd looks, however they were in the minority. By now, most of the hundreds that had gathered at Borders had succumbed to the same aura of excitement.

In one corner, a magical creature spelling bee was going on in full force. The current contestant - who looked to be about nine - was struggling over the word "phoenix." At another stand, you could purchase your own magic wand or wizard's hat, which both Diana and Kate had done immediately. There was even a "Dumbledore" reading passages from the books to the younger children.

Then, of course, there were the fans themselves. People ranging from five to eighty-five were dressed as different characters from the series. Diana was a dark-haired Hermione while Kate masqueraded as a blonde Cho (for, as she staunchly defended Cho, in her depression after Cedric's death, would have felt compelled to do _something_. Apparently that "something" was dyeing her hair blonde. Diana didn't argue). Diana had never seen so many Harry Potter fans gathered in one place before - not even for midnight movie showings! - had never felt a greater sense of camaraderie with what she liked to call "her people." And they were all here for _one thing_.

"I _know_!" Kate shrieked back, waving her wand (eight inches, birch, unicorn hair) around excitedly. "Three years, Di. _Three years_ and it's finally here!"

"_Order of the Phoenix_," Diana said, relishing the taste the words left in her mouth. "_Order of the Phoenix_. It sounds so _cool_!"

"Well, _duh_. JK Rowling wrote it, didn't she? What did you expect it to be, _Harry Potter and the Happy Fluffy Bunny_?"

Diana snorted with laughter. "I wonder what it is?" she mused aloud. "The Order of the Phoenix, I mean."

"Di, I know where this conversation is going. Don't pretend I don't."

But the thirteen-year-old continued as if her friend had not even spoken. "I mean, when Dumbledore told Sirius to go alert 'the old crowd,' do you think that was them? The Order?"

Kate heaved an inward sigh of relief, glad that _that _potential hazard had been avoided.

"And then he told him to go 'lay low at Lupin's' for a while. . . ."

Kate groaned.

"So that probably means that _Remus _is in it!" she finished triumphantly. "I mean, he wasn't in the fourth book at all which was totally stupid. I mean, Harry talks to Sirius but not his old professor?" She scoffed. "Ungrateful little child. I mean, Harry doesn't even _talk _about him unless you count when. . . ." Diana cut herself off, searching her friend's face solicitously.

"Oops, I did it again, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

"Can I. . .?"

"Yeah, go ahead. What page?"

"Two twenty-one," Diana burst out immediately as if she were being quizzed on the subject. Then, "Sorry, Kate."

"It's okay," Kate said patiently. "I know you can't help it. I'd be the same way with Cedric if he were still alive."

Diana's eyes widened in sudden realization. "Oh God, I just realized. What if it's _Remus _who dies, Kate? JK said it was an adult in Harry's life. . . . Oh God, what if it's _him_?"

"It probably isn't," Kate said reassuringly. "I mean, there are lost more important people in Harry's life." She began to tick them off on her fingers. "I mean, Sirius is his godfather for one, and Dumbledore, and Hagrid. Even Mr. and Mrs. Weas-"  
"How can you say that?" Diana cried, aghast. "Remus taught Harry the Patronus Charm . . . he was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Harry ever had! _Ever!_ Without him . . . Harry would be dead! He and Sirius would have had their souls sucked out by the dementors and the Harry Potter world as we now know it would have. Why, it would have _ceased to exist_!"

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Kate asked, slightly peeved.

Diana considered. "That Remus is important in Harry's life, but that he won't die."

"Okay," Kate said resignedly. "He's important in Harry's life, but he won't die."

"And that he's the most handsome and amazing guy in the entire series."

"What? No way! That title belongs to Cedric and Cedric alone."

"What, his _ghost_ you mean?"

"Hey, you promised you wouldn't talk about that now."

"Well. . . ."

"_One minute!_" the Borders manager called in a commanding tone. "One minute, witches and wizards, until the release of the fifth book, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_!"

There was a thundering roar from the crowd. People whooped and stamped their feet. A man dressed as Fred or George - Diana couldn't tell which - tore off his shirt and started dancing.

"Oh, God," she repeated. "What if he dies, Kate?"

Kate followed her gaze. "Who, Fred . . . George or whoever? I doubt it."

"Not them! Remus!"

"Ohh." Kate patted her best friend's hand in a resigned sort of way. "He won't, Di, don't worry."

Around them, the crowd was counting down.

"Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. . . ."

The two girls met each other's eyes and smiled, the same exact thought running through their minds just as it was running through everyone else's. _This is it._

"Ten," the two girls chanted, their voices mingling with the rest of the crowd. "Nine, eight. . . ."

The few people that had come merely to pick up a cookbook or a gift card for their cousin shot the chanting crowd odd looks. A few people laughed and pointed, yet there was still no effect on the group of fans. The invisible bond between them withstood the jeering - it spread from the youngest to the oldest, from the fattest to the thinnest, from the Harrys and Hermiones to the Dracos and Snapes. None of it mattered except what was going to happen . . . four . . . three. . . .

"Please remember to pick up a complimentary pair of genuine _Harry Potter _spectacles on the way out!" the manager said cheerfully. "Thank you very much for coming to the celebration!"

Diana thought it looked like he was going to say more, but. . . .

"Two - _one!_"

The crowd surged forward as one, barely heeding the staff's attempts to arrange them into a neat line.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, you'll all get a book, don't worry," the manager said, his cheerfulness slightly forced now.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the line crept forward until Diana and Kate stood in front of the massive table with rows upon rows of the same hardcover novel displayed. It was breathtaking.

And, not even bothering to grab a pair of complimentary, genuine _Harry Potter _spectacles, Diana and Kate sprinted out of Borders, their books in tow.

**. . .**

"So, obviously Remus didn't die in that book, then," Linnaeus said knowledgeably. He had stopped writing down notes by now and had been listening raptly for several minutes while Diana told her story.

"That's right," Diana agreed, smiling. "I couldn't help it. I know Sirius's death was sad and all. Kate and I mourned for a while, believe me, we did; but I was just so relieved it wasn't . . . _Him_, you know? What, was he your favorite character?" she asked, seeing the slightly tense expression on the psychologist's face.

"Sometimes," Linnaeus said with a smile. "He could be slightly . . . reckless, at times."

"Oh yeah, definitely." The sixteen-year-old laughed. "Like when he went with Harry to King's Cross in _Order of the Phoenix_. I bet Dumbledore was mad at him for that."

It was Thaddeus's turn to laugh. Diana thought he looked very handsome when he laughed; it accentuated his dimples still more. "Oh, he _was_. I mean. . . ." He faltered as Diana shot him a strange look. "I mean . . . I think so, too. I thought Dumbledore would be _so _mad when he found out, too. Anyway," he said, rather abruptly. "What happened next?"

Diana gave the psychologist an odd look. "Alright," she said slowly, almost as if Thaddeus were the one in need of psychological help. "Well, next summer we went to see the _Prisoner of Azkaban_ movie. I was really excited for it because the third book was my ultimate - _ultimate _- favorite. Needless to say, it was pathetic." The sixteen-year-old gave a short laugh.

"Whoever cast Oldman and Thewlis as Sirius and Remus, _urgh_." She gave an involuntary shudder. "They had to have been on _something _if you know what I mean. . . ."

Linnaeus nodded in agreement, but left it at that. Diana wondered if he had merely said this to make her feel better - her mother _was _paying him good money, after all. . . .

Or perhaps he thought he had said too much already.

"Years passed," she continued, watching Linnaeus's face closely. "And before we knew it, we were counting down to Book Six. That familiar feeling of anticipation filled us again. You know that feeling I told you I felt when we were all counting down to _Order of the Phoenix_?"

Linnaeus nodded again - slightly less stiffly.

"Well, it's like that - that, that feeling of being joined by some sort of bond to the rest of these fans. I know you're probably not as into HP as I am, Thaddeus, but . . . when it's something that important, you just feel it _here_, you know?" Diana placed a hand over her heart.

"Oh," said Linnaeus, slightly hoarsely, placing a hand almost involuntarily on his own chest. "Oh, no, Diana I understand, I do." Seeming to realize what he had just said, the doctor quickly cleared his throat and returned to his professional air. "So, what did you think of Book Six - _Half-Blood Prince _I believe it was called?"

"That's right," Diana agreed. "The book was okay, I guess. I mean, it wasn't nearly as good as the others, but I _loved _the whole Remus and Tonks romance. That was _so _sweet of JK to put them together! He _finally _found true love, I was so happy for him!"

"You weren't jealous at all?" Linnaeus prompted.

"Not really. I mean, I can't pretend I didn't wish he ended up with a 'Diana Lark' but Tonks was definitely best for him." Diana nodded decisively and Linnaeus's expression softened.

"But then-" Diana's besotted expression abruptly became morose - "with Dumbledore's death and Snape and . . . well, I can't say I ended it with the best of feelings. I mean, I just can't _believe _Snape would do something like that. I always thought he was Dumbledore's man. . . ." She trailed off into introspective silence for a moment as the psychologist watched her intently.

"Well, then Kate and I had to mourn for him, of course. He was one of the best characters in the entire series! And then-" An even sadder expression settled over Diana Lark's face.

**. . . **

_July 17, 2005, 5:00 AM_

"Today is a very sad day for the Harry Potter community." Diana's voice shook as she stood in the light rain, her arm linked with Kate's.

"Today, we mourn the loss of Albus Dumbledore," Kate continued for her friend.

"However, we also celebrate his achievements, for they were far greater."

"Like his placement on Chocolate Frog Cards." Pulling one out of her jeans pocket, Diana placed it in front of the large rock they had used as an impromptu memorial site.

"His defeat of the Dark wizard, Grindelwald, in 1945."

"His penchant for chamber music and ten-pin bowling."

"But most importantly." Diana stomped the damp ground with her sneakered foot to bring home her point, "his untiring work against the Darkest wizard this world has ever seen, Lord Voldemort!"

Hesitantly, six-year-old Amy brought her hands together a couple of times, but the two girls had not finished.

"That is," Kate continued, her face smeared with mascara, "until his untimely death at the hands of Severus Tobias Snape!"

Snuffles howled and the two girls exchanged awestruck glances.

"Remember Albus Dumbledore." Diana's words shook with power.

"But most importantly, remember his words. 'Death is nothing but the next great adventure.'"

"Well," said Diana, "we hope Professor Dumbledore is having one hell of an adventure."

"Maybe he went to Disney World!" Amy exclaimed. At the glance her older sister sent her, she immediately fell silent, instead placing a bouquet of lilies over the gravesite.

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Albus Percivale Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you will never be forgotten!"

Politely, Alan and Rachel, along with Kate's parents, Kelly and Ron, applauded their daughters' speech as Snuffles let out yet another howl.

"That was excellent, Katie, really excellent," Ron enthused.

"Yes, maybe you could try out for the Drama Club at your new school, dear," Kelly said, forcing a smile as her daughter's back stiffened.

"You mean they actually _have _a Drama Club down there?" Kate retorted.

"I'm sure they have just as many things in Georgia as they do here, Kate," Rachel said gently.

"I bet they don't," Kate muttered sullenly. Diana nodded in fervent agreement.

"Yeah, I bet there's only a . . . a Georgia Appreciation Club, or something. . . ." she said, ignoring the pointed looks her parents sent toward her. She wasn't about to lose her best friend, she _wasn't_!

"Yeah!" Kate glared at her parents. "Do I _really _have to go, Dad? Mom, do I? Why can't I live with Diana?"

"Kate, you know that's not possible," Ron said sternly. "We allowed you to stay until that _Half-Blood_ . . . thingy book was published so you could celebrate with Diana, but now . . . we really need to go down and get settled before school starts."

"But, Mr. Maxwell, can't she. . . ?"

"_No_, Diana. I'm sorry, Katie, I really am. But you know I've been offered a great job down there and housing is cheaper and. . . ."

"I'm sure you'll love it down there once you get used to it, Kate," Rachel said.

Kate could only glare around at the adults surrounding her before turning to her best friend. She sighed. "E-mail me all the time, okay? And IM?"

"Definitely," Diana said immediately.

"And your screen name, it's still. . . ."

"_Duh. _Do you really ever think I'd change it?"

"And your cell's still the same."

"Yeah, of course." Diana laughed rather shakily.

"I'm really gonna miss you, Di." Kate's blue eyes were brimming with tears.

Before she could stop herself, Diana wrapped her arms around her best friend and Kate returned the gesture. "I'll really miss you, too. Will you call me the second you get there?"

"Yup."

"Hey, maybe when Book Seven comes out you can come back here for the weekend or something."

"Yeah," said Kate, looking cheered. "Maybe."

"Kate, honey, come on!" Kelly called from the car. "Dad wants to get to Maryland before noon!"

"Coming! I'll . . . see you later, Di."

"Definitely." Both their smiles were forced now as they fought not to cry.

Snuffles howled again.

**. . .**

_December 27, 2006_

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__Hey, Di! Did you get your gift yet?_

_**MrsDLupin: **__Yep, and I totally love it! Where you got a shirt that says__"I Love Remus" is beyond me._

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__I have my connections . . . also ._

_**MrsDLupin: **__LOL. I didn't even know they had shirts like that. I LOVE it._

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__:0_

_**MrsDLupin: **__So, how is the fine state of Georgia? Any fellow HP fans?_

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__Nope. :,( I miss you lots. I'll try to get Mom and Dad to let me come down in the summer, k?_

_**MrsDLupin**: Awesome! Hey, maybe Book 7 will be out by then… How cool would that be?!_

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__W00t, that'll give me something to look forward to. Anyway, G2G. TTYL, Di._

_**MrsDLupin: **__K, bye._

_January 27, 2007_

_KATE!!!_

_TITLE OF BOOK SEVEN RELEASED!!! HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS!!! AND IT'S GOING TO BE RELEASED ON JULY 21__ST__! I REALLY HOPE YOU CAN COME DOWN IN THE SUMMER SO WE CAN CELEBRATE. BEST FRIENDS FOREVER, RIGHT?_

_LOVE, DI_

_Di,_

_That's SO awesome! I haven't checked MuggleNet in a while so I didn't see that. Guess I can always rely on you for the news bulletin, LOL. I really hope Mom and Dad will let me go._

_Love, Kate_

_May 23, 2007_

_Bad news, Di. :,( Mom and Dad won't let me go and see you during the summer. They're way into getting me to do other things. Like, they have me going to this stupid summer camp. From what I've seen, everyone there seems like they have a stick shoved up their ass. Either that, or U-No-Poo. I'm really sorry. _

_Your BFF,_

_Kate_

_Kate,_

_Oh Merlin (Lol), that's awful! Maybe I can go down and see you then…Being together either here or in Georgia . . . doesn't matter to me either way. It's still Book 7!!!_

_~Di_

_**MrsDLupin: **__Hey K! Mom said I could come down to your house in the summer! I'm SO excited!!_

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__Oh._

_**MrsDLupin: **__As long as your parents say it's OK, LOL. Did they?_

_**MrsDLupin: **__Hello? Kate?_

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__Um . . . no. Not exactly. They don't really want you to, Kate because I'm going 2 be at summer camp and stuff._

_**MrsDLupin: **__WHAT?! YOU'RE GOING TO MISS THE RELEASE OF BOOK 7 FOR SUMMER CAMP?!?! :(_

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__Yes._

_**MrsDLupin: **__But it's HARRY POTTER! Kate, what's wrong? The Kate I know would never do this. Come on, tell me!_

_**CeddyPattinson14: **__Nothing. I'm fine. Anyway, I have to go. Bye._

_**MrsDLupin: **__Kate, wait! Kate, please don't_

_**CeddyPattinson14 has logged off.**_

_**MrsDLupin: **__Go. _

_July 2, 2007_

_Dear Diana,_

_I must offer you my most sincere apologies for the last time we spoke, nothing can account for the way I treated you. Needless to say I am extremely sorry. However, I write you this note for another reason, Diana, one other than that of begging your forgiveness. Each of us, I believe, is going our separate ways Diana, we are growing up. Liking Harry Potter is your business while I believe that I, in my quest to become a well-rounded woman, am becoming too old for it. Praying to the Lord Almighty, family, and my social life in general are far more important to me than a silly series of children's books. Please do not feel that you should cease to enjoy them simply because I do not, Diana. Think about it, Diana, you should do whatever makes you happy in life even if I am not longer in it. Please don't give up, Diana._

_Goodbye._

_Love, Kaitlyn Maxwell_

**. . .**

Thaddeus patiently handed Diana a box of tissues as she finished her story. Here they had spent nearly an hour talking about everything to do with Harry Potter – both great and small. Harry Potter, the entire reason Diana Lark had been admitted to him for care . . . and yet, she had never shed a tear. True, her voice had become shaky while speaking of Dumbledore's memorial, her eyes had even welled with tears – most likely euphoric – when speaking of the _Order of the Phoenix _release party. Yet here she was, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she spoke of losing her best friend.

In the end, Thaddeus thought, it was not altogether the books that intrigued Diana. It was the people she shared them with.

Who had she first confessed her love of Remus to?

Kate.

Who had she gone to the Book Five release party with?

Kate.

Who had commemorated Dumbledore's passing with her?

Kate.

And who had shared thousands of other memories with her, memories that Thaddeus would never even know of? Both Harry Potter related and not?

_Kate._

Well, Thaddeus thought. There was only one thing to be done now.

"Diana," he said gently. "Did anything else happen after Kate . . . severed ties with you? Anything you would like to tell me about?"

Still sniffling, Diana took in a great gulp of air, dabbing at her nose and eyes with the crumpled tissue.

"N-not really," she whispered, attempting to force more strength into her feeble voice. "Three weeks later Book Seven came out. I went to the release party. . . ."

"By yourself?" Linnaeus looked concerned.

"N-no. My mom was kind of into it so she went with me. And Amy, that's my sister. It wasn't as fun, though because they don't know as much about it. You know?"

"Yes, parents never do," Linnaeus agreed with a sardonic smile. "Nor do little sisters."

A small smile tugged at the corners of the teenager's lips, but she didn't say anything, only shrugged.

"Diana, could I ask you a question?"

"You're the psychologist aren't you?" Diana's voice had deteriorated into the dull tone she had so often used with Hansworth.

Linnaeus continued, completely unperturbed. "Do you really think it was Remus's death that bothered you so?"

Diana looked at him, shocked. "What did my mom hire you for if you're going to say stupid things like that?" she demanded. "Of course it upset me! I _love _him!"

"Well," said Linnaeus. "I imagine that Kate's splitting ties with you right before the release date could have bothered you as well."

"_Duh_, she was my best friend. Of course it was hard, but that and . . . and _His _death are two entirely different things!"

"Are they?" Linnaeus raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yes, they _are_!" Diana stood up, glaring menacingly at the psychologist.

"Very well. I won't say any more about it, then."

Diana nodded stiffly. "Thank you. Are we done? I think my mom will be here soon. . . ."

Linnaeus gave a small smile. "Don't worry, I'll only hold you up for a second. There's something I'd like to mention to you and your mother. I think that - along with these sessions - it could really help you."

"What is it?"

Linnaeus raised a hand. "Mary!" he called.

"_Yes_, Mister T?"

The psychologist gave his customary sigh before continuing. "Could you bring Mrs. Lark in here, please?"

"Sure thing." A few moments later, the door was reopened as Mary ushered an apprehensive-looking Rachel inside.

"Hey, how did it go?" she asked, immediately going to stand beside her daughter's chair, resting a hand protectively on its' arm.

"Very well." Thaddeus answered in place of Diana. "I think we're definitely getting somewhere. What do you think, Diana?"

"Oh . . . yeah, definitely!"

"Well, as long as security weren't called in, I'm happy." Rachel laughed nervously.

"Mom," Diana said, "it went _fine_."

"I know it did, Di."

"Well, it doesn't. . . ."

"The reason I called you in here, Mrs. Lark," Thaddeus Linnaeus began, cutting off both mother and daughter, "is because I believe there is a rather unique opportunity for Diana that - paired with these sessions, of course - could help her enormously."

Rachel's eyebrows rose. "Oh, really? What is it?" Diana was dying to hear the same thing.

"It is called PHA."

"PHA?" Diana echoed wonderingly.

"It's short for Potterholics Anonymous. Myself and a few other friends run it. It was one of those friends that came up with the name. I assure you, I had nothing to do with it." Thaddeus nodded sanctimoniously to both Rachel and Diana, who was stifling a giggle with difficulty.

"But what _is _it?" Rachel asked again.

"It's basically a support group for fellow Harry Potter fans - those who are depressed the series is over, those who can't get over a particular character's death, and so on." He nodded toward Diana. "I believe that your daughter would be a very good addition, Mrs. Lark."

Diana's eyes widened. "That sounds cool," she said. "Mom, can I do it, _please_?"

"Well, I don't know. . . ."

"Mrs. Lark, I assure you, this is a nonprofit organization. It costs absolutely nothing," Thaddeus said earnestly.

"Where is it held? Mister Linnaeus, I'm sorry, but I really don't have the time to be driving all over the state."

"Right here in this building,. We hold it in the cafeteria every Wednesday at three. If you could get Diana here, then it would be my pleasure to bring her there."

"Oh, well. . . ." Rachel appeared slightly flustered as the psychologist sent her a dazzling smile. Diana, seeing her chance, stepped in.

"_Please_, Mom?"

"Oh, alright!" Rachel exclaimed, yet her face betrayed no irritation. Her eyes were locked completely with Doctor Linnaeus's.

"And if it's not too much trouble," Linnaeus continued relentlessly, "would it be alright if I were to speak to you and your husband? If he's willing, of course," he added quickly.

Abruptly, the spell was broken. "What, do you think we abused her?" Rachel quickly demanded, stepping protectively in front of her daughter.

"No, no, Mrs. Lark, of course not. I could never imagine such a sweet woman as yourself abusing a child. I would just like to get a feel for Diana's home life, the environment she grew up in. And I'd like it from someone else's perspective." Diana could tell Linnaeus was turning on the charm full-force to win her mother over.

"Oh . . . very well, I'll come. But I can't promise my husband will. He . . . he works very long hours sometimes. He's a lawyer," she added suddenly, almost haughtily.

"Ah, I see." Once again, Linnaeus's answer was perfectly calm and monotone. Diana thought he was pretty good at that.

_Maybe he has kids of his own. _For some reason, the name Theodore popped into her mind, but she quickly dispensed with it. _No. There was just no way. . . ._

"Goodbye, Diana. I'll see you on Thursday." Thaddeus had stood up by now while her mother was offering her a hand up. Taking it, Diana walked in a half-daze to the door where the man now stood.

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Mrs. Lark," Thaddeus added, shaking Rachel's hand.

"Oh, please, call me Rachel," she said, placing a hand to her mouth to stifle her girlish laughter. Then, sounding as if she were determined to make amends she said, "Oh, by the way, I really enjoyed your book. I was reading it while I was waiting for Di and it's really quite good."

"My book?"

"Yes. The . . . oh, what was it? _The Internal Beast_, that's it! Excellent reading, really excellent."

"Thank you. Would you like a copy?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't. . . ."

"You _could_, Mrs. Lark, believe me.I have a million copies of the bloody thing. I need to give _some_ of them away, otherwise what's the fun of being an author?" Linnaeus quickly grabbed a copy from a nearby bookshelf and handed it to the blonde woman.

"Thank you," she said in turn.

"My pleasure. Oh, and Diana, you may want to read some of it. I daresay someone in your position may find it . . . interesting," he said significantly.

"Oh . . . alright," Diana said, slightly befuddled. However, as they sat in the car, she began to flip backwards and forwards through the thick hardcover. _Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. . . ._

"Diana, be careful with that," Rachel warned, semi-sternly.

She stopped arbitrarily, at the very beginning of the book. It was the dedicatons page. Running her finger down the page, she read:

_To the very best friends a man could wish for._

_Best friends._

_Fellow mischief-makers._

_Brothers._

_You mean everything to me, you who confronted my beast._

_I miss you dearly._

_TRL_

Diana could only stare, shocked into silence.

**Note: **So, did you like it? I worked hard on this one, I am even ignoring doing final papers and stuff for it! Just because I love you guys so much . . . and I love reviews. Yeah, those too.

I will try and have the next chapter, to be called Potterholics Anonymous, up before the twenty-third of May. That is my and my boyfriend's one year anniversary and we'll be going up to NH for the weekend. Hello to any New Hampshireans out there! …

Yeah, that's right. New Hampshireans is a word.

I'm probably going to write a one-shot before that chapter, though. Just a little, goofy one that will take me probably a half-hour to write. -crosses fingers- Goodbye and happy reading (of my other fics - yes, this is blatant advertisement, mwahaha!).

~Lizzy Lovegood


	5. Potterholics Anonymous

**Disclaimer: **I own only the clothes on my back. Harry Potter is not part of those clothes. I do have several Harry Potter shirts, though. Those don't really count, though. :(

**Note: **Hi! I know it's past when I said I would put the chapter up (May 23) but hey, at least it didn't take eight months to post a new chapter like last time. This is an improvement. :D

This chapter is dedicated to **Michelle Black a.k.a. Elle **and **Jen94 **for their messages/reviews that managed to get me off my ass and to the keyboard.

Also, if you like this story, try _Forgotten Memories _by Michelle Black . Elle. It has a good plot and I beta for it. :D

**Note: **By the way, I have not yet – _YET –_ become pathetic enough that I review my own stories and pretend that I got a new review. I am mentioning this because in the reviews for Chapter Four, there is an actual review made by Lizzy Lovegood (not a reply to an anonymous review, an actual review).

That was my boyfriend. I asked him to review the new chapter of _Distorted_, which I had been trying to get him to read. Why? Because it's awesome. And I need the moral support. Anyway . . . I was logged on to my account to post the story and before he reviewed, he did not log off mine and onto his (**crapmuffins**). Thus, _his _review showed up in _my _name.

Just in case anyone cared. -cricket, cricket, worm, worm- Or not.

_Bon Appetit!_

**Chapter Four: Potterholics Anonymous**

_August 8, 2007 - 2:45 PM_

"I don't even see why we have to _go _to this stupid thing," Alan said from his position in the passenger seat of the car.

Neither his wife or daughter answered him. Indeed, Rachel's only response was to tighten her hands around the steering wheel.

"It's like bloody marriage counseling." Alan continued to grumble. "We don't _need_ marriage counseling."

Diana watched her mother's lips twitch in an effort not to retaliate. They had been fighting a lot recently. Why, just yesterday, her father had thrown a fit when Rachel - on the way home yesterday afternoon - had forgotten to pick up peanut butter at the grocery store.

_How was she supposed to make Amy's lunch now? How could she worry all about one daughter while neglecting the rest of the family?_

Diana didn't like it - not one bit.

"What we _need_, Rach, is for both you and Di to get over this - this _thing _- you're obsessing over. I've said it a million times and I'll say it again. _Get over it._This isn't healthy for anyone. Rach, Rachel, are you even listening to me?"

Her mother's hands were white around the steering wheel now.

"Dad. . . ."

"_Quiet_, Diana. This isn't about you."

"What are you talking about? Of course it is. . . ."

"_Diana!_"

"Don't yell at her!" Rachel snapped.

"Why not? At least it may knock some sense into her."

"_Alan!_" Rachel had to fight to keep her eyes on the road as she screeched at her husband.

"Why?" Alan repeated, incensed. "All you're worried about right now is Di, Rachel. Do you even realize - do you even _care_ - that your youngest daughter has been totally neglected?"

"She has Snuffles."

"Oh, right, she has the damned _dog _for company!" Alan exclaimed. "So, Amy has the dog while we're going with Diana to speak to a psychiatrist about our home life!"

"Well, he thinks it's important. . . . ."

"Important? _Important?! _Important for what? Let me tell you something, Rach. Telling some bloody shrink about our life, all because of a crappy book series is not - in the _least _- important. What is important is our family, which you - both of you - seem to have forgotten lately."

Tears streamed down Rachel's face. Diana watched as her protector became shockingly incoherent.

"Dad . . . Mom's crying."

"I realize this, Diana," Alan said stiffly. He refused to face his daughter.

Diana glared at her father's rigid profile. "You know what, Dad?" she finally said. "I think _you _forgot what family means. Only I think you forgot a long time ago."

Rachel's hands tightened still more on the steering wheel.

**. . .**

_3:00 PM_

"Diana, Mrs. Lark, hello again!" Thaddeus's cheerful voice greeted the small family as they entered the oak-paneled office.

"Hi," Diana said while Rachel gave a tiny, hesitant smile. Alan, meanwhile, was looking anywhere but at the man standing in front of him.

"And you must be Diana's father - Alan, I believe? It's a real pleasure."

Alan merely grunted in reply. Ignoring the other man's extended hand, he seated himself with an audible _plop _in a straight-backed wooden chair.

"Yes, well . . . Diana, I would like to have a word with your parents. I am sure Mary would be more than happy to escort you down to the meeting." Alan exuded a long, drawn-out sigh and, although he was still smiling, it appeared to Diana as if Thaddeus's cheerfulness was beginning to fade.

"We'll be alright, Di," her mother finally said, encouragingly. "You go on ahead. Have fun."

Acquiescing to her mother's command, Diana left the office and walked hesitantly up to the secretary's desk.

"What can I do for you, love?" Mary asked, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind one ear.

"Erm . . . Dr. Linnaeus said that you would, er. . . ." The sixteen-year-old wasn't exactly sure why, but this woman always made her feel slightly nervous. The way she could stare down a person . . . and her eyes, the colors. . . .

"Oh, the PHA meeting, you mean?" Mary snapped her ever-present gum as she left her seat.

"Um . . . yeah."

"Cool! C'mon, I'll show you where it is." Beckoning, Mary strode toward the door and Diana hurried to keep up. Countless doors and plaques passed through Diana's line of vision as they neared the stairwell.

"These meetings are great, really great," the redhead prattled on as they descended. "This will fix you right up, this will. I like to pop in on my break and the meetings are always amazing. Great people, really great people. Of course, I may be a bit biased, seeing as I date one of the members."

"Really, who?" Diana asked, although she thought she already knew.

"Thaddeus," Mary sighed, "or Mister T as I like to call him." She gave Diana a wink. "I mean, you _must _have noticed how much I flirt with him."

"Well, yeah, but. . . ."

"But what?" The woman's green eyes widened in curiosity.

"Nothing." It didn't matter, really. Mary was a nice enough woman and she certainly had no reason to be jealous. For Merlin's sake, the man was her psychologist. He could have been her _father_.

Just like Remus - _He _- could have been her father. Yet she loved _Him_. Her heart ached with the thought of _His _death. A rather large lump gathered in her throat and she fought not to shudder.

Yet did she begrudge Tonks for having him? Thaddeus had asked her the same question just yesterday and she believed she had answered honestly. _But had she?_

And why had Mary's mere _mention _of Thaddeus caused her to have such a reaction?

Were they . . . could they just possibly be. . . .

"Diana? Hey, you still with us, hon?" Blinking bewilderedly, Diana was surprised to meet Mary's concerned-looking green eyes, colors undulating alarmingly. Swaying slightly, Diana quickly diverted her eyes from this nausea-inducing sight.

"Diana?" The eyes appeared again.

"Oh - oh, yeah, I'm fine. . . ." The sixteen-year-old trailed off as she caught sight of the man standing directly behind Mary. The man smiled at her confused expression, running a hand through his neon-green streaked hair.

"You sure you're okay, kid?" Mary repeated.

"I'm sure she's fine, Mary. Stop fussing, you're acting like my mother," said the green-haired man with a laugh.

"Oh ha ha, very funny Aiden," the woman retorted, silencing the man with a mock-glare. "Diana, this is Aiden Kane. He's one of our heads here at PHA."

"It's very nice to meet you, Diana. Thaddeus has already told me a lot about you."

"Really?"

"Really. I feel like I've already met you." The man winked.

And, for some reason, Diana felt the same way.

"Well, I'd better be going before Mister T gets his knickers in a twist. Diana, once the meeting's over, just come right on upstairs again, alright? You know the way, don't you?" At the girl's nod, Mary headed reluctantly toward the stairwell; she obviously wasn't in the mood to do paperwork.

"You sit right over there next to Gareth - that's the tall red-haired boy. I'll be over in a second to introduce you," Aiden said kindly, gesturing to a group of metal folding chairs arranged in a semi-circle.

With a nod, Diana went to her designated spot. The red-haired boy - Gareth apparently - turned to face her with a grin.

"Hi," he said. "You're the newbie, aren't you? I'm Gareth."

"I'm Diana."

The red-haired boy grinned. "So, why are you here?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I assume it's not for the free snacks. . . ."

"Oh . . . it was, er. . . ." Diana felt herself getting flustered. It was one thing talking about _Him _with a shrink or her parents. They would sympathize no matter what - well, at least Rachel would. . . .

With a fellow fan, though . . . someone who knew the material - perhaps even better than she herself - someone who might not even share her views. What if this Gareth shipped Wolfstar? _Ugh. . . ._

"It's alright, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Kindly, Gareth patted her shoulder. "I know how hard it is."

"Who was it for you?" Diana asked, eyeing the boy's red hair and freckles. "Let me guess, Fred?"

"Nope. George's ear."

"George's _ear_?"

Gareth laughed. "Just kidding, it was Fred. It was just so . . . sudden, you know?"

"Oh," Diana agreed fervently. "Definitely."

"I just . . . I couldn't comprehend it. But then . . . then I thought about what Fred would want. And George, too. They wouldn't want any friend of theirs to just sit pining over them, would they?"

"I guess not." Curiously, Diana tilted her head to one side. _This _was a view she certainly hadn't heard before.

"No, they'd want us to go on living our lives, to have fun and joke around. You know? And they were right. I may have been upset, but I kept going and it was worth it. Every - _single _- page. Why, the ending, it was just fantastic! Didn't you think so?"

"Erm, well. . . ."

"Sorry for the delay, everyone!" Aiden exclaimed as he took his place in the center of the group. "But we have a new member today! Everyone, this is Diana Lark. Diana, would you mind standing up, please?"

Diana's eyes scanned over the small group as they politely applauded. Besides Aiden, there were two other adults - a tall, thin woman and a shorter, brown-haired gentleman. On Gareth's left, there were three girls her own age while, on the farther side, there sat a hunched-over figure, a gray hoodie drawn up to cover their face.

"Now, Diana, as you know, I'm Aiden. And these are my assistants, Patricia and Ned."

"Pleased to meet you, dear," Patricia said, nodding her dark head.

"Hey, there." Ned raised a hand in salutation.

"So, Diana, what brings you to PHA on this fine day?" Aiden asked.

"Huh?"

"Why are you here?" he elaborated. "What was it about the Harry Potter series that struck you so?"

Diana felt her stomach tighten as she gazed around the semi-circle. Each face, seemingly so kind, looked as if it could strike her down if she even _thought _the wrong thing. What was _wrong _with her? These people were supposed to be her fellows. She may have stood next to them at release parties or Wrock concerts without even knowing it, and now. . . .

Now they just looked ready to attack - each submerged in their own separate grief.

"I told her she didn't have to say anything if she didn't want to," Gareth said staunchly. "I'll start if you want, Aiden."

"That's very kind of you Gareth," Patricia said with a smile that lit up her whole face. "But Diana, first you must understand. No one here will think you are stupid or crazy for saying what you _feel_. We've heard some stories - _oh_, have we heard some stories. Haven't we, guys?"

"Oh, definitely," Ned said with a chuckle. "Like, remember that girl who wouldn't stop going on about the. . . ."

Patricia silenced him with a glare as Diana heard a sharp intake of breath from a girl with choppy dirty-blond hair. She reminded Diana a bit of a punk Fleur.

"The point, Diana," Aiden continued, "is that it is your _opinion _that matters here. Nothing else. No one will attack you for sharing your opinion. Isn't that right, guys?"

Despite the murmur of assent, Diana wasn't all too sure about that.

"It was . . . well, it was. . . ." She trailed off into the expectant silence.

"Yes, dear, go on," Patricia said, flashing her an encouraging smile.

There came an inarticulate mumble from the teenage girl and Gareth squeezed her shoulder. Judging from his tender expression, he seemed to be the only one who had heard.

"I'll tell them if you want," he offered. "I know it was hard for me, too."

"Yes, Gareth, please do." The punk Fleur girl spoke, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"_Melinda,_" Aiden warned, still not taking his eyes off of Diana and Gareth. "Go ahead, Gareth, I'm sorry ab-"

"It's not as if it _matters_!" the girl - Melinda - exploded. "Do you really think any of this matters?! Here we are, here we all are, mourning these . . . these _characters_! And they're not even _real_!"

"Melinda," Ned said, sounding exhausted. "They're real to some people. . . ."

"Oh, just stop with the symbolism, you asshole!" she retorted, with a voice as sharp as barbed wire. "We all know that you don't really give a shit about us. We're just a form of entertainment, something to laugh at over drinks . . . aren't we?"

"Melinda, calm down," Patricia started, before she too was cut off.

"Calm down? You want me to _calm down_? Well, then, stop acting like this is real. You guys obviously don't think so and I'm tired of playing around here. Because you know what _is _real? You want to know what the only real bloody thing is? _Do you?_"

Diana cowered in her seat and watched the other two girls do the same. Even Gareth looked slightly pale underneath his freckles.

Standing, Aiden approached the distraught girl.

"It's over, don't you understand?" she said, choking on a laugh that rose in her throat. Or was it a sob? Diana couldn't tell. "It's _over_. Ten years, seven books, thousands of fans and conventions and . . . and she _ends _it!"

"Hear, hear," the second girl said, raising a shaky hand. Her hair was drawn into a messy knot and she looked tired . . . so very tired. Diana wondered if she was mourning, too.

"And with that sorry excuse for an epilogue, no less!" Melinda continued, face streaked with tears as she glared at Aiden. "She just _ends_. I mean, James and Lily are one thing, but Albus Sev-"

"_SPOILERS!_" An earsplitting shriek split the group and Diana jumped, startled. Along with Gareth, she turned to face the last girl who was clutching her ears, screaming one word as if her life depended on it.

"_SPOILERS, SPOILERS, SPOILERS!_"

"Sarah, Sarah, come on now love, calm down," Patricia soothed, placing a long-fingered hand on the girl's heaving shoulder.

"_No, no!_" Sarah cried, wriggling out of Patricia's hold. "You promised there wouldn't be any spoilers! You _promised_!"

"Why, just because you can't handle the truth?" Melinda spat, glaring daggers at the other girl. "Just because you want to – and I quote – 'savor it'? It'll end the same way, you know it will. Hell, we _all _know it will!"

"Come on, Melinda, leave her alone," Gareth said, standing. "We know it's over."

"You might, you perfect little saint, you might! But _she _doesn't!" Melinda seemed beyond reason now. "Don't you understand, you stupid girl? It's over and there's nothing _anyone _can do about it!" And she made to reach out and grab Sarah by the collar.

In one fluid motion, Aiden had trapped her against his chest.

"No, you bastard, let me go, let me _go_!" she shrieked.

"Only once you calm down," Aiden said through gritted teeth. "_Owww!_"

"How about now, boss?" Ned asked, unable to stop the shadow of a smile from leaking over his face. Patricia glared at him.

"Depends."

"Are you ready to behave, Melinda?" Patricia asked, speaking slowly and patiently as if addressing a misbehaving toddler. "To behave and listen to your peers' opinions?"

Grimacing, Melinda slowly nodded. Shoving Aiden's now-immobile hands away, she took a seat, smoothing down her hair and clothing and looking for all the world as if the past few minutes had never happened. . . .

"I'm very sorry about that, Diana," Aiden said, gathering his own wits. "Now, if you wouldn't mind. . . . Diana?"

**. . .**

Diana was done. She couldn't take this anymore. Her case was simple enough – it wasn't as if she had psychosis or thought she was from Mars or something – she was just mourning a character and wanted someone – _anyone_ – to talk to. And they couldn't even give her _that_. At this point, she wasn't even sure who "they" were, but she sure as hell was going to figure it out!

Why, Hansworth had been nothing but a condescending fool to begin with. From what Rachel had told her, he hadn't taken her seriously from the start. Hansworth – no, _Wormtail_ – was far too close-minded to understand something as humane as love and friendship. He had betrayed his own friends to Voldemort!

Then there had been Thaddeus. She had thought he was good – a genuinely good man. But no . . . he had thought her as stupid as Hansworth had. He had just been smarter about it.

Diana wished she could hear his thoughts right now. _Lead her in, pretend you care, Thaddeus, just for a little while. Make her trust you. There you go, old boy. That's perfect, now . . . drop her in this hell hole with these psychos!_

Well, perhaps that wasn't fair. Gareth had been nice enough and even Sarah in her own innocent way. But Aiden and even Patricia and Ned – they were nothing but jail wardens. Melinda was right. They didn't care, none of them cared. They were something to laugh at with friends.

_Hey, guys, remember that girl who couldn't get over that Raymoose guy? Oh, what's that, _Remus_? Ha ha, that was pretty damn pathetic. _

Then again, maybe she was. . . . Here she was, defending her right to be upset over Remus's death, overlooking the fact that everyone was trying to drill into her head. He was a _fictional _character. He would never be real. It was over, just as Melinda had said.

Even her best friend had known that and had quit while she was ahead. Kate would always have fond memories of midnight movie premieres and book releases to look back on – remembering what it was like to be a carefree little girl.

And what would she have? Remembering those two weeks where she cared about nothing but the fate of a make-believe man. Her father was right. _Kate _was right. She had cared more about a book series than her best friend.

All because of _Him_.

But maybe it wasn't too late. Kate had split with her – Diana did some quick calculations – a little over a month ago! They could still patch things up. . . .

She didn't have time to tell her parents. She'd call them from Georgia or something. Who knows, maybe they would stop fighting, then, once they realized she was patching her life up. She was the source of their problems, after all. . . .

Idly, Diana wondered how much a plane ticket would cost. _Or maybe traveling by train is cheaper? _But it didn't matter. Her priorities had gotten totally screwed up. _Kate _was supposed to be the most important thing, not a character in a book. She'd pay any fee if only to have her friend back. _Then again, Dad's credit card might not be too happy._

Grinning at the thought, Diana headed toward the main doors. First she'd have to get home, grab some money, give some lame-o excuse to Amy and. . . .

"Diana, the meeting's out already? Gee, that was quick." Mary grinned at her, holding a manila folder in one hand, a bag of Juicy Fruit in the other. "Want one?" she asked as she picked a stick from the bag and began to unwrap it.

"No thanks." Diana was tired of it. This secretary didn't fool her for one instant, she was nothing but Linnaeus's little accomplice, ready to stop her at any chance. After all, what was the fun in allowing your little pet to get away? But she wasn't about to be subdued by a sweet treat.

"Well, then, come on back to the office. I'm pretty sure your parents are nearly done in there. Jeez, was your dad working up a storm – seemed to think this was something about their marriage." She snorted.

"Oh, no, I was just going to get a . . . a Coke." Diana gestured at the vending machines near the front doors.

"Oh, alright," Mary appeared nonplussed for a second, before beginning to dig in her purse. "Here, let me give you some money." Finally, she divested a dollar from the behemoth thing and handed it to Diana. "That should be enough, right?"

"Yeah, thanks." Then, before Mary could utter another syllable, Diana began walking down the hall, toward the exits and . . . _freedom_.. She could make her own decisions now, no one would talk down to her _anymore_.

And, once she had made certain that Mary was no longer watching, she pushed open the front door, already digging for the dollar Mary had given her. At least she wouldn't have to shell out her own money for the bus fare.

"Wait!"

Ignoring the voice – assuming it was merely a frantic businesswoman trying to hail a taxi – Diana walked to the corner where a bus was already pulling up to the curb. Diana barely noticed the advertisement for the fifth Harry Potter movie. She was beyond that now.

"Wait!"

The voice was behind her. What if someone had seen her leaving and had informed Mary or Thaddeus? In a panic, Diana surged forward with the crowd, pushing and shoving to get on first. She _wouldn't _go back.

"Di, Diana, wait!"

Diana stopped mid-stride so that the skateboarders behind her pushed past, mumbling mutinously. Hardly anyone called her Di – no one except her mother who was still with Linnaeus and. . . .

"Di!" She was wearing a dark gray sweatshirt that read "Remember Cedric Diggory" and faded blue jeans. Her blond hair was shorter than the last time Diana had seen it and she had a large bruise on one cheek. But there was no mistaking her. Diana almost sank to the pavement in disbelief.

"Oh my _God_, Kate?"


	6. Bonfire

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to the great JK Rowling. Unfortunately, I am not JK Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter.

**Note: **Yay, a quick update. Well, it's quick for me. What's it been, a little over a week since the last chapter? I'm getting better. :D

This chapter isn't really 'dedicated' to anyone per se. It is more inspired by someone. Therefore, thank you to one of my old pastors who once confronted me about my love for Harry Potter. It is because of him that I am now so passionate about the subject of banning/burning books.

**Chapter Five: Bonfire**

_August 8, 2007 – 3:45 PM_

"Di? _Di! _Come on, Di, get up!"

A hand was slapping her face – not hard enough to hurt, but not too softly either – and Diana brushed it away impatiently before looking up into the eyes of Kaitlyn Maxwell.

And, quite promptly, she fainted again. _Nearly._

"Oh, don't you dare try that again, Diana Lark! It was all I could do not to convince the bus driver not to call an ambulance. I had to get out my cell and everything . . . and of course _I _was worried sick!" She ran a hand through her short blond hair in annoyance. "Come on, up you get, this is important."

"K-Kate, is it really-?"

"Yes, of course. Do you know anyone else who would wear something like this?" Kate plucked at the old gray sweatshirt with a wry smile. Stumbling slightly, Diana took Kate's outstretched hand before beginning to follow her briskly down the pavement, a thousand questions already percolating in her brain.

"But – what happened? Your letter . . . it said. . . ."

"I _know _what it said, Di. And I'm sorry about it, I really am. I'll explain it all to you once we find someplace to hide. Ah ha, perfect!" Reentering the building, Kate plunged down a narrow flight of stairs to their left, Diana in close pursuit.

"Not here, Kate. Please, just not here. _They're _here." Diana knew she made little sense, but it didn't matter. She was panicked. Aiden might know about this – or Thaddeus or even Mary. They'd find her, take her back . . . act like she didn't matter. . . .

"What are you taking about? No, they won't."

"Yes, they will. They will. They'll take me back . . . and you, too, if they find you."

"Diana," Kate said gently. "Di, look at me. Who are 'they'?"

"Thaddeus and . . . and Mary and Aiden and . . . and even my parents! They don't care, none of them care! And I was going to leave and find you . . . but, you're here now and we've come back here and. . . . Wait, you're not working for them – are you?"

"No, and right now you just sound like a total nut job. Come on, in here. I'll explain everything. I promise they won't find us. I don't think anyone really knows about this place, except maybe the janitor." Beckoning, Kate opened a small, dirt-encrusted door and squeezed through it. Diana had no choice but to follow.

It looked to Diana like a boiler room, with boxes piled to the ceiling and a large furnace in the middle. Diana leaned uncertainly against a mop and bucket while Kate perched on a box labeled _Cleaning Supplies_.

"Sit down," she offered, looking as if she were steeling herself for something.

"Kate, what happened?"

"Just . . . just sit down first." Now that they were safely hidden, the girl's fervor seemed to have deteriorated substantially. _"Mi closet es su closet,"_ she joked feebly.

Her own worries forgotten, Diana seated herself next to her best friend, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"So. . . ."

"I ran away."

"Well, I figured that much. Why?"

And, with a deep breath, Kate began her story. . . .

**. . .**

_December 30, 2006 – 11:00 AM_

"Amen, brothers and sisters of Christ, _amen_!" the preacher cried, addressing the congregation packed into the small church.

"_Amen!_" they all echoed in one voice.

"May the Lord be with you."

"And with you," they chorused once again.

Almost involuntarily, Kate began to fidget in her seat, wanting nothing more than to get back home and talk to Diana for a bit. It felt like it had been forever since she'd spoken to her friend. Her mother had become obsessed with getting her "into" things. _The Drama Club . . . Student Council . . . school dances . . . blah, blah, blah. . . . _Sure, the people here were nice enough, but they just couldn't compare to Diana.

"Kate, stop that," Kelly chastised, as she turned her gaze once more to the pastor. Pastor Briggs was one of the few people here that Kate really, truly liked. So many of the others were either old farts or kids who didn't know what it meant to have a good time. Kids that were so used to doing what Mommy and Daddy wanted that they didn't know what _they _wanted. . . .

Pastor Mike Briggs, however, was a different breed altogether. He looked to be around ten years older than her father, but – unlike Ronald Maxwell – seemed to radiate energy and laughter at all hours of the day. Even his sermons were able to hold Kate's interest . . . for a certain amount of time, at least. It might be sacrilegious, but he reminded her a bit of Dumbledore.

"Brothers and sisters, I have a very sad pronouncement to make today," Briggs continued. Kate could only assume it was some old woman who had died in her sleep last Wednesday but, at Kelly's stern glance, looked up just the same. "I will be leaving First Baptist Church."

There was sad muttering from all around the church and her mother had to hide her face for a moment.

"In my place," Briggs said, "will be Pastor Robert Green. He has even come today to introduce himself to you all. Pastor Green, could you come up here, please?" Briggs vacated his spot at the pulpit and gestured for another man to join him.

Green wore a black suit and tie and had a thin, neat mustache. His dark hair was slicked back to within an inch of its' life. He, too, radiated energy but it didn't seem to be the same type . . . and Kate didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. . . .

**. . .**

"So, what was he like?" Diana asked, enraptured.

"Oh Merlin, do you _really _want to know, Di?"

"Yes, I want to know!" For a moment, it felt as if she and Kate were eleven years old again, rehashing the awesomeness of the series for the millionth time, rather than sitting in a broiler room, afraid to move, afraid of being caught and dragged back to their own private hells. . . .

"He was _so _boring!" Kate finally exclaimed, burying her head in her hands. "Merlin, was he boring. I mean, his voice it was just awful and . . . and he wasn't even interesting and . . . and he. . . ." Her voice caught on the last syllable and she made a choking sound.

"Kate . . . Kate, what happened? What did he do? Not – not _that_?"

"No, of course not that. He just . . . he . . . he took them. . . ."

**. . .**

_January 5, 2007 – 11:30 AM_

"Pastor Green? I just wanted to tell you that that was a lovely sermon you delivered today – just lovely."

"Oh," the preacher said in his usual sepulchral tone – and Kate had to fight not to start snoring then and there. "Oh, thank you Mrs. . . .?"

"Maxwell. Kelly Maxwell." Kelly extended a perfectly manicured hand toward Green. "And this is my husband, Ron . . . well, he _was _here. I expect he's off getting coffee . . . and my daughter, Kaitlyn."

"Hello, Kaitlyn."

"Hi," Kate replied stiffly.

"Didn't you like Pastor Green's sermon, Kate?" her mother prompted, sending her a _look_.

"Oh, yeah. It was alright."

"Yeah, it was about Revelations, wasn't it? The Apocalypse and everything?" Ron queried, having returned with coffee and several donuts. He handed one to his daughter.

"Yes, and how the _true _Christians must stay on the straight and narrow and not succumb to any temptations," Kelly said devoutly. Kate fought not to snort. Before they had moved here, her mother had succumbed to all too many "temptations."

"Exactly," said Green with as much excitement as he seemed to be able to muster. "And there are many temptations out there. Aren't there, Kaitlyn? I'm sure a young person such as yourself has been tested many times."

"Oh, our Katie's a good one," Ron defended, placing a strong hand on Kate's shoulder. "_She _wouldn't. . . ."

"I'm sure," Green said, cutting him off. "That's a very nice scarf you've got there, Kaitlyn. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, a friend gave it to me for Christmas." Absentmindedly, Kate fiddled with the tassels of her Gryffindor scarf. Diana had sent it to her. _Be brave, _the note attached to it had read.

Green didn't say anything, merely nodded, before walking off. However, Kate caught the look on his face and it spoke clearer than any wordshe could possibly utter. _I rest my case._

**. . .**

_March 21, 2007 – 11:30 AM_

However – although every instinct told her not to – for some reason, Kate continued to wear the scarf. Every Sunday, without fail, she would leave the house in her Sunday best, the Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck like a Christmas bow. Green showed no reaction so, eventually, she began to pair it with other things . . . a Gryffindor pendant . . . a "Support Harry Potter" badge . . . her infamous "Remember Cedric Diggory" sweatshirt. . . .

Whether she did this to spite Green or just because she didn't feel like changing her habits for some stupid-ass pastor, she wasn't sure. What she _was _sure of, however, was that when Pastor Green asked to speak to her and her parents in his office, it was not a good thing. As Kate ducked into his small, orderly office, she thought that – if it were possible – he looked even more grim than usual.

"Ron, Kelly, I'm afraid I have some . . . bad news," Green began after seating himself across from the three. Kate couldn't help but bristle that he had left her out of the address.

"What's wrong? Did something happen to Doris? Or . . . or Ida?" her mother immediately asked, looking frantic.

"No, no, of course not, Mrs. Maxwell," Green soothed. "It was only the snow that kept Doris and Ida in today. I'm sure they'll be back next week."

"Poor things," Ron said sympathetically.

"Indeed. However, I'm afraid that _this _bad news is right in your very fold." Clasping his hands, Green directed his gray eyes right toward Kate.

"Kate. . . ." Kelly whispered, before almost throwing herself on her daughter. "Kate, honey, what happened? Did someone threaten you? Or . . . or. . . ."

"Was it _that_?" Ron asked, his expression almost feral, and Kelly let out a strangled scream.

"_Ow! _Mom, stop it! Of course it wasn't _that_. I don't have a clue what he's talking about."

"Don't you, Kaitlyn?" Green asked slyly. "But then again, I don't suppose I can blame you. You _are _young, after all." His eyes became suddenly tender and Kate fought the urge to strangle him.

"What do you mean?" she asked, shrugging out of her mother's tight hold.

"Does _this _look familiar, by any chance?" Green asked. Opening the top drawer of his desk, the pastor pulled out a small, paperback book and held it up for her to see.

"_Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_," Ron read, almost to himself. "Wait, that's that book series you love so much, isn't it, Katie?"

"Yeah. Why, what's wrong with it?" Kate demanded.

"_Kaitlyn!_"

Green, however, did not appear at all perturbed by the teenage girl's outburst. "It's alright, Mrs. Maxwell. None of you – let alone a _child –_ can be expected to know the dangers. To most, these – these _monstrosities –_ look like mere children's books. But not to people like me."

_You mean psychos? _Kate thought, but said nothing.

"Do you see this mark?" Green pointed to the lightning-bolt scar featured prominently on the cartoon Harry's forehead. "Do you know what it bears an awful resemblance to, Mrs. Maxwell? Mr. Maxwell, how about you?"

Both Kelly and Ron shook their heads. Kate's eyes were narrowed.

"The Mark of the Beast," Green said, with the air of a funeral director. "The mark of Lucifer. And this Harry – he is the hero of these books, is he not, Kaitlyn?"

Kelly's hands were covering her face in horror.

"Kate, answer Pastor Green's question," Ron said tersely.

"Yes."

Green smiled, a triumphant smile. "That is just what I thought. This entire series of books is absolutely _inundated _with witchcraft."

"Yeah, but it's just fantasy!" Kate cried. "You know like made-up stuff?"

"_Kate!_" Both her parents spoke this time.

"It may seem 'made-up' to you, Kaitlyn. But witchcraft is a very _real _religion. And I'm afraid to say, young lady, that you are right in the middle of it. I believe it my sacred duty to help you."

"Pastor Briggs didn't see a problem with it. . . ."

"Pastor Briggs is still young, Kaitlyn."

"You're the same bloody age!"

"_Kaitlyn Anne Maxwell!_"

"What do you suggest we do?" Ron asked.

"Well. . . ." Drumming his fingers on the polished wood of the desk, Green appeared to think for a moment. "I think it would benefit Kaitlyn very much to learn the true evils of this book, so that she doesn't make the same mistake again. I could always tutor her, if you wish."

"Oh, you would really do that?" Kelly was starry-eyed as she gazed at the other man.

"Of course. As I told you, Mrs. Maxwell, I consider it my _duty_. Now, Kaitlyn, how is Wednesday evening for you. Say, around six o'clock?"

"That's great." Ron had spoken before Diana even had a chance to open her mouth.

"I guess we'll see you and Harry then, Kate," said Green, going to open the door of his office.

"Oh, thank you so much, Pastor Green, thank you," Kelly gushed.

"It's no problem at all, Mrs. Maxwell, none at all." Glancing up, Kate expected to see a Snape-like smirk playing around his lips, but what she saw scared her more.

Green's face was utterly serious.

**. . .**

_March 24, 2007 – 6:00 PM_

Like a lamb going to the slaughter, Kate walked stiffly to the door of Green's office. Kelly and Ron had forbade her to wear the scarf, but she had managed to slip on the Gryffindor pendant under her jacket.

She had had it on since Sunday.

By now, her parents had taken most of her things. The walls were stripped bare of movie posters and badly-drawn fan art; the shelf where the novels and analytical texts had rested was bare and collecting dust. Kate had cried long and hard, exhausting every bribery in her repertoire, but neither had relented.

Kate had no idea what had happened to them, but she intended to find out. Just as soon as her mother was off on an errand, she would search the house from top to bottom.

"Stupid, idiot man," she grumbled under her breath as she knocked on the door.

"Come in," Green's voice issued from behind the door. Feeling remarkably like Harry going to his first detention with Umbridge, the sixteen-year-old had no choice but to push open the door.

Green sat at his desk – _just like Umbridge, _Kate thought spitefully – looking remarkably self-satisfied, several large texts open before him.

"Ah, Kaitlyn, it's good to see you," he said. "Do sit down. Would you like anything to drink?"

Kate merely shook her head.

"No? Alright, then, let's get started. As I told you and your parents on Sunday, Harry Potter is absolutely _filled_ with Wiccan references. Do you know why this is?"

"No clue."

"Because this author, this 'JK Rowling,' _researched _it! She would have quote-on-quote 'witches' complaining if she didn't pay tribute to their religion. Wouldn't you think?"

"No. Especially seeing as it's _fiction_."

"It is not fiction to Wiccans, Kaitlyn. In fact, it is the very opposite. This book series – why, it's done some absolutely _awful _things. It has lured innocent young people such as yourself to practice witchcraft, which the Lord absolutely _despises_! Kate, this series is very dangerous and I count myself among the lucky few that can lead a young person away from this _horrible _temptation.

"Now, to business," he continued. "Take off that pendant you are wearing. That . . . that pentagram or whatever it is."

"It's not a pentagram!" Kate exclaimed angrily. "It's a pendant that my friend got for me. And I'm notabout to take it off just so you can throw it in the trash!"

"Kaitlyn, I understand this must be difficult for you. It is hard for anyone to forswear something they once loved, particularly as something as addictive as Harry Potter. There is a fan base of millions, is there not?" He received no answer, but continued unperturbed.

"Come on now, Kate, I know you can do this. It may be hard at first, but once you take that first step, the Lord will give you strength." He reached for the silver chain that hung around her neck and Kate jolted back.

"Let go!" she growled, clawing at the pastor's hand, now tight around the chain. "Let go of me! I'll scream, I swear I will. And . . . and someone will come. . . ." She stopped, as she understood what she was saying. No one would come. They were in an empty church at six o'clock on a bitter March afternoon.

No one was coming.

She was totally alone.

The silver chain snapped around her neck.

**. . .**

_May 16, 2007 – 9:30 PM_

Sparks lit up the night sky. Beautiful though they were, they were the most terrible thing that Kaitlyn Maxwell had ever seen. However, she could only watch as members of the congregation slowly built the fire higher and higher, placing sticks of wood expertly to feed the flames.

It was almost as if they'd done this before.

Little children who had accompanied their parents to the bonfire were begging to roast marshmallows. A few of the older ones had even started singing campfire songs.

_Afterwards, _their parents gently chastised. _After it's done._

_It. _The word sent chills down Kate's spine. It would most certainly be done . . . and what was more, there was nothing that she could do to stop it. She was completely powerless, standing between her parents, both staring at the bonfire with almost prideful expressions. As if this was what they had wanted for their daughter all along. . . .

Once again, she had cried and once again, it had made no difference. It was their duty as parents, after all, to keep her from harm.

"Stop," a voice ordered. It wasn't loud – it didn't need to be – but it made the entire congregation stand to attention.

Dressed in a blue T-shirt and khaki trousers, Green didn't particularly look the part of a villain, but Kate knew better. She rubbed at her cheek; the swelling hadn't gone down yet. She wondered if it ever would.

Delicately, almost ceremonially, Green pulled a satchel from his shoulder. Kate fought the urge to shudder as he pulled out the old paperback copy. She had bought it at the book fair at school when she was nine years old. It had looked so cool and everyone had been into it, after all. . . .

Vaguely, Kate wondered if Sam Forrester was still into them; she had always had a bit of a crush on him. Maybe, just maybe, that was why she had started reading them in the first place. Maybe she hadn't really _loved _them after all. Maybe, if she thought that, it would make it hurt less.

"Kaitlyn, come here, please," Pastor Green called and, with a shove from her father, Kate found herself stumbling toward the fire and the man beside it.

Slowly, Green handed her the old, dogeared copy of _Sorcerer's Stone_. Their gazes locked and Kate knew she had no chance – no chance whatsoever – of escape.

"Throw it in," he said, nodding towards the blazing fire.

She shook her head, tears running in rivulets down her face.

"Throw it in," Green repeated and it eventually became a mantra, repeated by the whole crowd. _"Throw it in, throw it in, throw it in."_ It was almost as if they were singing the chorus to a hymn.

"Go on. Just the one and I'll do the rest."

Glancing surreptitiously into the satchel, Kate saw more than just her own books. She spotted a few by Judy Blume, Shel Silverstein, even _To Kill A Mockingbird_. She had read that in English class last year. It was a good book. What was wrong with it?

_What was wrong with Harry Potter?_

"He will give you strength, dear!" croaked feeble old Doris. Leaning heavily on her cane, Ida nodded fervently at her side. "All you have to do is ask Him for it!" Raising her bony arms heavenward, she croaked out something that must have been a prayer.

_"Throw it in, throw it in, throw it in."_

"Do it," Green whispered. "Do it, unless you'd like to burn with them."

Kate threw it.

Later, they roasted marshmallows.

**. . .**

"Why didn't you _tell _me?" Diana demanded, trying her best not to speak too loudly despite her fury. "I would've told my parents, we would've gotten you out of there!"

"I know."

"Then why didn't you? Merlin, Kate, I'm your best friend, you're supposed to _tell_ me things like this! You know, when you have a psycho priest who's threatening to burn you at the stake, that's usuallysomething you tell someone!"

"It was my responsibility to deal with it. You shouldn't have had to. . . ."

"So was the summer camp thing all just a lie, then? A lie to stop me from worrying?"

"Kinda."

"'Kinda'? What do you mean by that, 'kinda'?"

"Well, when I wrote you about it, I was just making something up. But then, my parents told me about some camp thing they were sending me to. . . ."

"And something tells me this wasn't a lanyards-and-canoing type place." Diana allowed herself to trail off as Kate became suddenly interested in the bottle of Windex sitting next to her.

"No," she said softly. "It wasn't."

**. . .**

_June 30, 2007 – 5:30 PM_

__"No!" Kate said. "No bloody way!"

"Now, Kate," Ron said patiently. "We know you've been doing very well in Pastor Green's lessons, but he thinks that this will just be something more. Something better to ensure that you don't relapse at all."

"Everyone has to battle temptations, honey," Kelly soothed. "Pastor Green just has your best interests at heart. You know he does."

Kate said nothing. Only a few weeks ago, she knew she wouldn't have even heard her parents out, would have marched them out of her room at the first mention of the word "camp" - especially if that particular camp happened to coincide with the twenty-first of July – and would have already called Diana to formulate an escape plan.

But between her parents and Green, that had been beaten out of her. The only possible fight she could put up was a bit of sullen muttering, a few despairing shouts at best. Her parents _did _know what was best for her after all.

"But Jesus Camp?" she pleaded pathetically. She had seen a few YouTube videos about that place; at the time, she and Diana had giggled over them – the brainwashing, the insane counselors – but now . . . _now _it seemed like a very real thing.

Kaitlyn Maxwell – former Harry Potter fanatic – was going to damned Jesus Camp.

"Yes," Ron said firmly. "And Pastor Green has even been so kind as to pay for your session. You're a very lucky girl to receive his treatment. Who knows what sort of things he saved you from. . . ." He allowed his voice to trail off ominously.

"Be sure to thank him next time you get a chance, dear."

"Yes, Mom."

"Good girl. Now, why don't you get ready to leave? I'm sure Pastor Green will be expecting you soon."

"Yes, Dad."

It was only as Kate began trotting down the street toward the church, dressed in a neat skirt and blouse, that she realized she had become what she most detested. Here she was, so used to doing what everyone else wanted – her parents, Pastor Green, even other older members of the congregation – that she no longer knew what _she _wanted.

Yet Kate continued to walk, tears dripping down her expressionless face.

**. . .**

"Hang on," Diana interrupted, holding a hand to stop the other girl's story, "that was only a few days before that message you sent me. Wasn't it?"

"Yeah." The blond girl dragged the word out as if reluctant to release it from her tongue.

"And it was obvious you were unhappy . . . so that letter didn't _really _reflect how you felt . . . ."

"No. . . ."

Diana twisted her mouth in thought before speaking. "Then . . . I don't understand. Why didn't you just ask for help, then?"

"Ask for help?" For some inexplicable reason, Kate looked suddenly angry.

"Well, yeah. . . . You know, _Di, There's a psycho pastor after me and my parents are sending me to some crazy camp. Help would be highly appreciated. _Or _I need help_ always works, too, you know!" Diana was getting highly agitated now.

"_Di. . . ._"

"What? I don't understand! I really don't!"

Half-growling, Kate pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her sweatshirt pocket and, unfolding it, revealed the contents to Diana. Curiously, the other girl perused it; it was a piece of notepad paper, covered with many revisions and crossing-outs. At the very bottom, however, was an unmarred copy. Squinting, Diana was just able to make out the barely legible words.

"That's the letter you sent me," she said slowly, as if hardly daring to believe it.

Kate nodded. "_Yes_, Di. Don't you see? It was a message – a secret message. Here, do you have a pen? Oh, wait, never mind." Pulling a BiC from her pocket, the girl proceeded to underline a few choice words before thrusting the paper into her friend's face once more.

"Here, Di, look. Just look."

Diana looked.

_Dear Diana,_

_**I**__ must offer you my most sincere apologies for the last time we spoke, nothing can account for the way I treated you. __**Need**__less to say I am extremely sorry. __**H**__owever, I write you this note for another reason, Diana, one other than that of begging your forgiveness. __**E**__ach of us, I believe, is going our separate ways Diana, we are growing up. __**L**__iking Harry Potter is your business while I believe that I, in my quest to become a well-rounded woman, am becoming too old for it. __**P**__raying to the Lord Almighty, family, and my social life in general are far more important to me than a silly series of children's books. __**Please**__ do not feel that you should cease to enjoy them simply because I do not, Diana. __**Think **__about it__, Diana, you should do whatever makes you happy in life even if I am not longer in it. __**Please**__**don't give up**__, Diana._

_Goodbye._

_Love, Kaitlyn Maxwell_

"_See?_" Kate demanded the moment Diana placed the paper down. "Don't you see, Di? I couldn't be obvious about it in case my parents went snooping around and found it. It took me _forever _to come up with that code."

Diana was silent.

"I figured you'd understand because of all the codes in Harry Potter. You know, like when Harry writes the secret message to Sirius in Book Five? Or . . . _everyone _thought Percy's letter to Ron was a code. Remember that? I thought you'd be thinking like that, since . . . since Book Seven was so close to coming out."

Diana shook her head, lips twitching almost imperceptibly.

Kate, however, was speaking enough for both of them. "I'm sorry, Di. I thought you'd understand. I never thought you'd _actually _think I abandoned you. I'm so sorry, Diana."

"Kate," Diana finally said, sounding gravely serious. "I think there are only three people in the world who would _truly _understand that letter."

"Well, like I said, it took me forever to come up with that code. . . ."

But Diana continued unperturbed. "You, me, and some autistic Mongolian kid."

Expression rapidly switching from concern to mock-anger, Kate playfully shoved the other girl. "Oh, shut up, Di," she said.

But she was grinning.

"Well, it's true."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Both girls stilled as voices were heard – muffled by the door, but still sounding very agitated – followed by the sound of running footsteps.

Diana and Kate waited a few moments in complete and utter silence, before Diana dared to speak in a voice barely above a whisper.

"So," she asked, "how did you escape once you realized I hadn't understood your cryptic letter?"

"Well, it was a close one," Kate conceded. "But it was partially because of you that it happened."

"Me? Why me?"

Kate resumed her story.

**. . .**

_July 15, 2007, 11:30 AM_

Standing at her mother's side, Kate picked listlessly at her blueberry muffin. She knew Mrs. Stanford had made them particularly for her because they were her favorite, but it did little to improve her mood.

"You should be _excited_, dear!" the plump woman had enthused to a distraught Kate last Sunday. "You are a very lucky girl . . . and to have our dear Pastor Green paying for this. . . . Oh! Yes, a very lucky girl, indeed. Here, have a Danish."

Kate could only suppose this was Mrs. Stanford's last-ditch attempt to cheer her up before she was to be exiled from normal society for a month. The bus left tomorrow.

Bored of her mother's incessant prattling and unsure of how to spend her last day of semi-freedom, Kate began to wander, picking tiny bits of her muffin, popping a few in her mouth and letting the rest fall, unhindered, to the floor. It was funny, the treat – usually so amazing when made by Mrs. Stanford's skilled hands – didn't taste as good as it normally did. She could only suppose that it was infused with her own sense of dread.

_Maybe it won't be that bad. . . . _

Then again, maybe she was becoming as gullible as her parents, now as malleable as putty in Pastor Green's scheming hands.

With a deep sigh, Kate made to sit down in one of the metal folding chairs ranged arbitrarily around the room.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Huh?" Feeling increasingly stupid, Kate swung around to see a young girl sitting in the chair – _wow, I must be really out of it –_ that she had never seen here before. The girl looked to be about eight or nine with black hair drawn into neat little plaits and – at the moment – had a gigantic frown on her tiny face as she glared at Kate. Actually, Kate reflected, she looked a whole lot like Di had at that age . . . but that was before Kate caught sight of the red and gold Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck, exactly like a Christmas bow.

"I was sitting here, you know!" the girl said angrily, pointing a finger toward the older girl accusingly. "You can't just go around sitting on people, especially people who are smaller than you. It's just not nice! Plus, you made me drop my donut – look!"

Kate barely spared a glance toward the lost Munchkins before kneeling to be at eye-level with the girl and beginning to pepper her with questions.

"What's your name?" she asked, casting a glance around for any suspicious adults who might be watching. "Are you new here? Where are your parents?"

For a moment, the girl appeared too shocked to say anything. "Why should I tell _you_?" she asked haughtily, once she regained her equilibrium. "You're a total stranger. My mommy says I shouldn't talk to strangers."

Kate placed a hand to her forehead and took a deep breath before resuming. "Alright, that's a good point. I won't ask you your name, but can you at least tell me whether you like Harry Potter or not? I see that you're wearing the scarf."

"Yeah, I do. What's it to you?"

_Kinds these days, _Kate thought, annoyed. _I don't think I was _that _cheeky when I was her age._

"You see that man over there?" she asked, pointing as inconspicuously as she could toward Green. "Do you know who that man is?"

"Yeah, that's Pastor Green. My Auntie says he's a really nice man." At the mention of her relative, the child seemed to have cheered up considerably.

"And who's your aunt?"

"My Auntie Jenny? She's right there." The girl pointed toward Mrs. Stanford who was restocking the coffee stirrers. "I'm here with her today," she explained.

"And are your parents here?"

"Yeah. That's them over there." The girl pointed to a nervous-looking couple, standing in the corner, sipping coffee. "Auntie's trying to get us to go to church more. She says Pastor Green is really good. Really, _really _good."

"And what do _you _think about Pastor Green?" Kate asked, hoping to get more out of the child than just a parroting of her aunt's beliefs.

The girl shrugged, tossing her plaits over one shoulder. "He's kinda boring," she whispered, giggling at her own nerve.

"You're right," Kate said, flashing the girl an encouraging smile. "He is boring. And do you want to know a secret." She lowered her voice still more. "I like Harry Potter, too."

"That's not a secret, silly!" the girl said, laughing.

"No, listen, hear me out. I liked it, too and do you know what Pastor Green did? This is the _really _secret part."

"What?" The young girl's eyes were wide.

"He burned them. He burned my Harry Potter books in a big fire and everyone here watched him do it. You see this bruise?" She pointed to the swelling still present on her right cheek. "That's from where he hit me when I tried to stop him."

"He _hit _you?"

"Uh-huh."

"But . . . but my Auntie said. . . ."

"Hon, I want you to _forget _what your auntie said, okay? I'm telling you the truth here. I need you to believe that. You need to get out of here. Tell your mom and dad that you don't like this church, that you want to try a different one instead. If you can, try and find a pastor named Michael Briggs. He's a good man."

"O-okay. . . ."

"And I need you to do me on last favor, alright?"

"Wh-what is it?"

"If anyone notices I'm gone, just act like you don't know anything. Act like you never saw me, okay?"

"You're leaving?"

"Shh, not so loud. But yes, I am."

"But why?"

Kate grinned. "Because I have a friend to catch up with. And a book release, too. Here, you can have my muffin if you want. Your Auntie made it."

Barely waiting for the girl's acquiescence, Kate Maxwell ran in her neat skirt and blouse out the door, down the street, and out of sight.

**. . .**

"So I just stopped off at home, grabbed some clothes and as much money as I could find and I've been on the run ever since," Kate finished. "It hasn't been easy I can tell you. I'm pretty sure they filed a Missing Persons ad or something, so I've been trying to stay out of the way, just in case someone recognizes me."

Almost involuntarily, she glanced fearfully around the cluttered room. "I haven't even been using my cell, so they can't track me that way; otherwise, I would've called you."

"But. . . ."

"I only got here a week or so ago. I've been hiding out in here for a few days. It's quite interesting really, all the office gossip you pick up."

"Kate. . . ."

"Like, did you know that some psychologist and his secretary up on the third floor are dating? _I _heard they actually did it on his _desk_. And then. . . ."

"_Kate!_"

"Shh, Di!"

"Well, if you'd just hear me out. . . ."

"What? What is it?"

Diana sighed deeply. "Why didn't you come to my house when you got here. I would've taken care of you."

Kate sent the other girl an apologetic look before releasing a dry, almost bitter, laugh. "Don't fool yourself, Di. The second your dad saw me on the doorstep, he would have called my parents. Next thing you know, I'd be right back in Hell again."

"But . . . but that's child abuse, or . . . or at least maltreatment or _something_!" Diana hissed, enraged on her friend's behalf. "They can't just do that to you and get away with it!"

"They have and will, Di. After all, they _are_ my parents. They're just looking out for my well-being, remember?"

"By sending you to a camp for psychos?"

Kate paused for breath before bringing them back to the topic at hand. "Di, I'm sorry but, your dad, he really can be an ass sometimes. He wouldn't care. . . ."

"I know he wouldn't," Diana said bitterly. "I know he's a pompous, by-the-book asshole. He's a lawyer for Merlin's sake!"

Kate looked relieved. "Well, I thought. . . ."

"What did you think? That just because he's my father, I have to love him? No way, I know what he is now. Why do you think I'm here in the first place?"

"You've _got _to be kidding me. He thinks his own daughter is crazy? That's a real punch to the ego."

"No," Diana said, "he thinks his own daughter is pathetic."

"_What? _Why?"

"You haven't read the seventh book yet, have you?"

"Oh, yeah, in between hiding out and hitchhiking up here I've had plenty of time."

"In that case, then, you'd know that Remus was killed." Directly after uttering these last few syllables, Diana placed a hand to her mouth, shocked that she had managed to do so without bursting into hysterics.

Kate, mistaking her friend's motion for grief, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Di . . . I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said simply. "Now that you're here. It's just, no one was taking me seriously, you know. First there was this Hansworth guy my parents sent me to, and he was just a _total _idiot. Reminded me a lot of Wormtail, actually, so I accused him of that. . . ."

"You _accused _him of being Wormtail?" Kate echoed incredulously. "Oh God, I don't think even _I _would have done that."

"Hey, I wasn't exactly in the greatest emotional state at the time. The point was, he thought me as pathetic as my dad did. He was actually a friend of his, I think."

"And?"

"Well, needless to say, I wasn't invited back. Then my mom found a new psychologist."

"And did she even consult with your dad about it?"

"Nope. She's actually been allied with me for a while now." _She's just not you._

"Wow, way to go Rachel!"

"Yeah, well, I thought the same thing. Anyway, I went to this psychologist – his name was Linnaeus – and he was even _worse_, I think. He just made me _think _he cared, but he really didn't."

"Hmm . . . kind of reminds me of that guy I dated freshman year," Kate mused.

"His secretary's about as mature as that, too," Diana growled bitterly. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was _them _who did it right on the bloody desk."

"You liked him, didn't you."

"Well. . . ."

"_Di_, don't try lying to me."

"What, are you going to employ your great powers of Legilimency?"

"_Di._"

"Okay, okay . . . well, yeah, I kinda did. But, I mean, he was _way _older than me. He could've been my _father_."

"Like Remus?"

"_Remus _is a fictional character. A _dead _fictional character, at that."

"He was real enough for you to mourn him for this long."

Diana knew her friend's remark had been meant to comfort, but instead it made her just feel guilty. There she had been, purposefully striding out of the building to repair her friendship with Kate. And now . . . now she was back to Square One.

No, worse than Square One, Square _Negative _One. Now, rather than squealing about the book series over the phone they were sitting in a cramped broiler room, hiding from their parents just like two toddlers playing hide-and-seek. She had to put a stop to this.

"Yeah, but . . . I put _it _before _you_. I should _never _have done that."

"Di, get real. How in Merlin's name would you have been able to figure out that I had a psycho pastor after me when I absolutely _refused _to tell you? I acted horribly toward you and _you're _the one feeling guilty?"

"But – your letter. . . ."

"I don't want to hear it. You would've needed the help of that autistic Mongolian kid to figure _that _one out. Face it, Di. You're a Potterholic, just like the rest of us."

The word stirred Diana's memory. "So that was youat the meeting. I never even thought about it before."

"Well, duh! Once again I must ask you – who else do you know who would wear this?" Kate flaunted the baggy gray sweatshirt dramatically. "I went the week before for the free food and thought I'd show up again," she admitted. "And I was _so _surprised to see you there!"

"But didn't they ask you about your problem or whatever?"

"Oh, they tried. Especially that guy – oh, what's his name – _Aiden_, he was really persistent, but I just kept quiet. Eventually they forgot about me. But I _did _find out quite a few things about the seventh book, too."

"Even with the girl who kept yelling about spoilers?"

"Oh, yeah, she was a hoot, but apparently some of them didn't bother her. It's mostly the Epilogue stuff that she hates. I guess she hasn't gotten there yet. Anyway, one of the other girls – Angela, I think her name was – she's an animal rights activist. She was going _insane _about Hedwig and Dobby."

"Well, they _were _sad. Especially Dobby's."

"Sad enough to run around screeching 'Hedwig, you will be avenged'?"

"_Ooh_, um. . . ."

And, for the first time in a long time, both girls began to laugh. To really _laugh_. Tears of mirth streamed down their faces while they leaned on each other to prevent from falling to the floor.

"Hedwig. Will. Be. Avenged!" Diana half-screeched. "Oh, Merlin, I haven't heard something that funny in _forever_."

"God, neither have I."

"You heard it already. Hahaha!"

"Well, yeah, but. . . ."

There was silence except for the occasional hiccup before they burst into paroxysms of laughter once more.

It didn't matter that they had both run away or that they had no idea what they were going to do now. It didn't matter that they were in a cramped boiler room, sitting amidst mop buckets and dirty rags.

They were two best friends – together again. That was all that mattered.

"Where is she?!"

Startled, both girls jumped, Diana nearly toppling off of her precarious perch. Sending each other fear-filled glances, Kate and Diana hardly dared to breathe, placing hands over their mouths to stifle any wayward hiccups of laughter.

"I'm sorry, Thaddeus, I really don't know." Diana's eyes widened; whoever the infuriated voice was, it certainly didn't sound like the kindly psychologist.

"Oh, cut it out, Aiden. Of _course _you do. She was with you, wasn't she?"

"Well. . . ."

"_Wasn't she?_"

"Yes, but – I swear it wasn't my fault – she just left. We all assumed she'd just had enough and gone back to your office."

"It's true, Thaddeus, it really is," said a tearful, female voice that sounded a lot like Patricia.

More footsteps approached and Diana heard Mary the secretary's overly cheerful voice. "Well, you know what happens when you assume, don'tcha? It makes an ass out of you. . . ."

"Tonks," Thaddeus growled, "we _really _don't have time for this."

". . . and me. Oh, come on, Remus, lighten up."

Diana had to forcefully stop herself from screaming – _Tonks, Remus_? What was going on here? She turned to Kate, just to be sure she had heard properly . . . to see her friend's eyes were as wide as her own.

"Lighten up?" the man – Thaddeus, or was it Remus? - repeated, sounding highly aggravated. "You want me to _lighten up_, Dora? How the hell am I supposed to 'lighten up' when this girl's parents are frantic with worry? I had her father threatening to sue the pants off me! It was all I could do to get them out of the office . . . I promised I'd look around the building – that she was probably hiding somewhere in here. . . ."

"And have you found anything?"

"No! Not a single, bloody thing!"

"Remus, come on, you're just blowing this out of proportion."

"I am _not _blowing this out of proportion, Harry! And don't you dare tell me I am. This girl is – for all intents and purposes – _missing_, and it was on your watch!"

"Don't just blame it on Harry, Remus," Tonks said. "It was on all of our watches. I'm sorry, I shouldn't even have let her go. I . . . I. . . ."

"Tonks," said Patrica. "Tonks, calm down."

"I'm s-sorry. She's j-just such a s-sweet kid and if she's m-missing, then it's m-my fault. She could be d-dead by n-now and . . . and. . . ."

"Will you lot keep it down!" a new voice growled. "You'll have the Muggles on us any second if you keep going on like this. Particularly _you_, Nymphadora."

"They're all gone," Patricia said. "I already checked."

"Even that secretary on the fourth floor? I don't like her much; getting a bit too nosy for her own good if you ask me. . . ."

"_Yes._"

"You're _sure_?"

"Of course."

"Then you are perfectly aware that there are two teenage girls in that closet over there."

"_What?_"

"I thought not," the voice growled, but it sounded amused just the same.

"Do you think that could be-?" That was Tonks again.

"Only one way to find out, isn't there? Lead the way."

Diana could only suppose Remus had made some gesture in the growly-voiced man's direction because next second there was a steady _clunk, clunk, clunk _approaching their hiding spot. Kate and Diana clutched at each other in fear.

"Di?" Kate whispered.

"What?"

"If something happens, I . . . I just want you to know that I was the one who spilled milk on your Daniel Radcliffe autograph."

_Clunk, clunk, clunk._

"So it wasn't Amy?"

"No. Sorry."

_Clunk, clunk, clunk_

"Great time to tell me."

"Yeah. . . ."

"_Alohomora!_" the voice growled and the door swung open. Kate and Diana looked up . . . into the rapidly revolving orb of Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

**Note: **If you are interested in Kate's confrontation with Pastor Green and would like to learn more about it, I suggest reading one of my other fics _The Devil's Work_. It is a persuasive essay I wrote in my senior year of high school about a subject that was important to me. Rather than choose the stereotypical abortion or drinking age topics, I decided to write about something I really love – Harry Potter.

**Note: **I am a bit stumped as to where to go next with this and will need some time to work the plot out. Therefore, before the next chapter of _Distorted Reflections _is released, I will most likely start on _Potterholics Anonymous_ with my own story about my love of Harry Potter.

If you would like to learn more, the description of _Potterholics _is on my profile page and if you would like to contribute a story to it, please vote in my poll so I can at least know how many people will – initially – be interested in it. Thank you.

And, as usual – please review! I've been trying my best to review every fic I read and I urge you guys to do the same. I can't tell you how sad I am when my story gets a lot of hits, but only two or three reviews per chapter. :(

Make me happy! REVIEW!


	7. Unforgivable

**Disclaimer: **I just had Pillsbury Crescent Rolls for dinner. They were good. It made me sad because I do not own Pillsbury. And I also do not own Harry Potter. OK, it didn't really make me sad, but I ran out of ideas for witty disclaimers. Damn you, wit!

**A/N: **Hey, guys! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Life's been kinda hard on me lately. I'm out of a job – like much of the nation – and school has been pretty demanding as of late. Not fun. But writing this chapter _was _fun. Harry Potter and you guys are one of the few bright spots on an otherwise bleak horizon.

So, _bon appetit_! With Pillsbury Crescent Rolls.

**A/N: **I would also like to dedicate this chapter to my grandfather who lives in Virginia. My family went down to visit him way back in July and, throughout the twelve-hour drive, I had much time amidst waving at passing drivers, to write much of this chapter. It was writing the last few pages that really kicked my ass.

Thanks, Pa!

**. . .**

**Chapter Six: Unforgivable**

_August 8, 2007 – 7:30 PM_

"How could this have happened?"

The sharp voice jarred Diana from her peaceful slumber. Peeking up through squinted lids, she was able to spot several shadowy figures at the foot of her bed. She wasn't sure who they were – indeed, wasn't sure what had happened to bring her here in the first place – and wasn't sure she wanted to know. As someone glanced her way, Diana snapped her eyes tight shut again, allowing the voices, both familiar and not, to wash over her.

". . .not exactly sure," another voice replied. Diana was pretty sure that one was Harry. "Moody found them lurking around. One of the girls was Remus's patient."

"So let me get this straight. . . ." That voice was totally unfamiliar. "She attended the PHA meeting and then, without anyone noticing, she left. Tonks runs into her, gives her some Muggle money. . . ."

"Only a dollar!" Tonks retorted indignantly.

". . .and next thing you know, she's missing. When you _do _find her, it's in a closet with a girl none of you have seen before. And no one knows what happened in the intervening time, correct?"

"Yeah, Dad, that sounds about right," Ned replied. Only Diana was pretty sure he wasn't _Ned_ anymore. . . .

"Actually," Remus interrupted, "I do have a hunch. In her sessions with me, Diana spoke much of her friend, Kate who – not too long ago – allegedly severed ties with her. I doubt she would admit it, but their broken friendship seemed to have caused more damage than any book ever could."

"What's your point, Remus?"

"My _point_, Arthur, is that I believe Kate came back. As to why, I have no idea, but she _did _come back."

"Now that you mention it, she does look sort of familiar," Harry mused. "Yeah. That sweatshirt she was wearing . . . I remember her from the meeting."

"You know what, Harry? I think you're right. . . ."

"Well, there's a first."

"Who knows, maybe she was even waiting there _for _Diana. Maybe they had it all planned out."

"The world may never know." Ned sounded amused.

"Shut it, the lot of you!" Moody growled. "You're missing the point here – _totally _missing the point!"

"And what would 'the point' be, Alastor?" Remus replied, rather coolly in Diana's opinion.

"Does she know who we _are_?"

There was silence before the voice Diana knew to be Remus spoke again. "Yes, Alastor. Absolutely. This girl, and I suppose her friend, too, are the most dedicated fans I have ever met."

"Really, Mad-Eye, I _did _think you would've picked up on that."

"Shut it, Snape . . . it was our lack of vigilance that got us into this mess. We have to make sure of all the facts. _Constant vigilance!_"

"Dear Merlin, Mad-Eye, do you _really _have to do that every time?" Ned asked, almost pleading.

"It's because of your lack of . . . _CONSTANT VIGILANCE_, mate," Harry teased.

"Merlin, Harry, stop that!"

"Stop it, the both of you! Professor Moody's right, this is _serious_. We need a plan."

"A plan?" a male voice asked. "A _plan_? Don't make me laugh, Granger. There _is _no plan for something like this. Face it, we're in deep hippogriff shit now."

"That's where you're wrong, boy," Moody retorted. "There is _always _a plan – sometimes it takes more than half a brain to think of one – but there is _always _a plan."

"Then, what is it . . . sir?"

"Whatever is necessary." The ex-Auror's voice was grim – much more frightening than Brendan Gleeson had ever been able to make it – and it chilled Diana to the bone. _She _was the problem this time – not some stray Death Eater or rogue Ministry employee – but her, Diana Lark . . . and she was afraid to hear what the solution was.

"Are you suggesting murder, Alastor?"

"I repeat, Molly, whatever is necessary."

"So they should be blamed for our oversight?"

Although Diana tried her best to repress it, she shuddered as the woman's – Molly's – voice rose in pitch. _Murder. _The word itself sent shivers racing down her spine. She had known from the books that Moody could be serious . . . but never _this _serious. Hadn't Sirius once said that Moody never killed when he could help it? Yes, that was right, in _Goblet of Fire_,_ Padfoot Returns_, page five hundred and thirty two. . . . Diana's mind raced.

These couldn't be the _real _Harry Potter characters. Of course not, that was ridiculous – they were _fictional_, remember? - who had thought it would be a good joke if they hoodwinked some grieving fans and pretended to be the real thing.

But to fake spells and . . . Moody's magical eye. Those would be immense amounts of special effects for a group of amateurs to pull off.

And to threaten to kill her?

Those would have to be pretty psychotic fans.

Maybe, just maybe . . . they _were _real and Moody had changed in the intervening years between Voldemort's defeat. He had gotten bored and wanted some better bait than Junior Death Eaters. What better way than to lure young fans into his web, call them a threat to security, and . . . well, Diana didn't want to think about it.

Perhaps they would confer first, decide on the best plan of action. Maybe, if she begged hard enough, they'd just send her home with a good, strong Memory Charm, none the worse for wear. Remus would vouch for her . . . and Tonks, too. Maybe even the trio. . . .

However, she wasn't about to stick around to find out. Here she was lying – completely helpless – amidst at least half a dozen armed wizards. She had to get out of here!

Opening her eyes barely more than a sliver, she peered around the room, growing ever more anxious. There was a closet in one corner while the other held a large set of drawers and a door leading to an adjoining bathroom. The main door – her only possible escape route – lay directly ahead of her . . . where it was blocked by several large, grim-looking wizards.

Diana couldn't help but gasp – she was done for. She and Kate. . . .

Wait a minute . . . where _was _Kate?

Terror gripped Diana in an iron vice. If anything had happened to her friend and she hadn't been around to prevent it. _Oh, no. Please God, no._

So obsessed was she in finding out Kate's fate, that it barely bothered her when a large, redheaded woman – she assumed it was Molly Weasley, but one never knew – turned her way, looking anxious.

"Oh dear, are you alright?" Arms reached forward, attempting to subdue her.

"No . . . no. . . ."

"It's alright, honey. We're not going to hurt you. Here, do you need help?"

"Please . . . no. . . ."

Next second, Diana found herself sitting upright as the woman positioned her pillows with the type of skill only a mother possessed.

"There we are, dear? Is that better? Would you like anything to eat? I've just made some soup. . . ."

"Now, now, Molly, let her breathe for a moment." A red-haired, balding man first who Diana assumed was Arthur Weasley placed a thin arm around his wife's expansive waist.

"No . . . no thank you," Diana whispered, afraid to face her captors as she ran her fingers nervously through her tangled hair. When had she last combed it? This morning? No, they had been in so much of a rush, she had forgotten. She vaguely recalled Rachel calling it out to her amidst kissing Amy goodbye.

_Mom._

Diana wrapped her arms tightly about herself, legs curling into a tiny ball underneath the white sheets. What was the last thing she had said to her mother? When was the last time she had told her that she loved her? She had always thought she would have another chance. . . .

But now she might not.

Mom, little Amy, Snuffles . . . hell, even Dad. Had this been her last day with her family? Was this God's idea of a cosmic joke? Would Moody choose to dispose of her body or would they allow her family to view her pale face from a casket?

Diana knew she may be making little sense, but she didn't care. Here she was, having found the characters of Harry Potter – every eleven-year-old kid's dream – to discover that they were already plotting her and Kate's death. . . .

"Kate."

Somehow, her thoughts had inexplicably given way to words.

"What's that, Diana?" Tonks bent over her – her hair back to its' trademark bubblegum pink – looking concerned.

"Kate. . . . I . . . want . . . to see . . . Kate."

"The girl you were with, honey?"

Diana nodded, casting terrified glances around the room, searching for any possible sign that her best friend had been here. Scratch marks, blood, _anything_. . . .

"Where is she?" she demanded, when no answer was forthcoming. "Where is Kate?"

"Why don't you wait a little bit, dear?" Mrs. Weasley prodded. "Kate might still be sleeping. Here, why don't you have some soup? It's French onion. . . ."

"No . . . Kate. . . ."

"You can see Kate after, dear, I promise. For now, you need to build up your strength."

"No . . . I don't want. . . ." Nevertheless, she could feel Mrs. Weasley attempting to mold her immobile fingers around the spoon.

"Just a few bites, Diana," Tonks coerced. "You'll feel better in no time."

"_No!_" With all her strength, Diana ripped her hand out of the Weasley woman's grasp. Pushing all restraining hands away, she continued to scream.

"Diana, calm down. . . ." Remus's hand came to rest calmly on the flailing girl's shoulder, for just a moment before Diana shoved him away with a fierce look.

"No! I won't! It's poisoned! I won't eat it, no!"

"Poisoned? What. . . ?"

"I heard you talking," Diana said, surprisingly more coherent now as she pointed a finger accusingly at each of them in turn. "I heard you lot talking about what to do with me! You want to kill me! Well, what better way than to slip some poison into my food? Huh?"

"Diana, please, let me expl-"

"You've explained more than enough already! I can't believe I thought you were supposed to be the good guys." Diana laughed bitterly before another thought struck her. "In fact – in fact I bet that's what you did to Kate, isn't it? What is she – sleeping or already dead and rotting? Tell me!" Tears flooded down her face as her query was met with silence once more.

"Diana, please. . . ."

"I don't want to hear your excuses! Tell me the _truth_! What happened to my friend? Is she dead or alive? Dead or. . . ."

"Kaitlyn," issued a serene voice from the doorway, "is very much alive, Miss Lark, although I am sure she thanks you for your concern." Ready to start shouting once more, Diana whipped her head toward the door. However, at the sight that met her, her mouth could only fall open in a wide, perfect _O_.

There, in the doorway, stood an old, bearded man, wearing deep green robes and – at the moment – a smile that lit up his twinkling blue eyes, hidden behind half-moon spectacles. Anything that Diana had been about to say got stuck in her throat, only allowing her to gasp and sputter incoherently.

"Dumbledore," a man that looked uncannily like Snape, breathed, appearing just as surprised as Diana. "What are you – how. . . ?"

"Well, Severus, as soon as Alastor arrived here with these two ladies, Sirius saw fit to inform me. Naturally, I came as quickly as I could."

"But . . . but. . . ."

"Di." Kate – who Diana had barely noticed when placed next to the legendary wizard – stepped forward now, hand outstretched. "Di, it's alright."

Diana could only shake her head, eyes darting madly around the room. "Kate . . . how . . . what. . . ?"

"She's a bit shocked, poor dear. Kate, dear, why don't you sit down? How about some soup?"

"No . . . Kate, don't. . . ."

"Diana, you must calm down." There was Remus again, placing a strong, calloused hand on her shoulder. Angrily, she shrugged him off.

_How dare he?_

"_Diana_. . . ."

"Miss Lark." Starting, Diana sullenly looked up into the blue eyes of the headmaster as he prised the lid from a small, silver tin, revealing an array of bright yellow candies. Still smiling like a madman, he extended it toward her.

"Would you, by any chance, like a lemon drop?"

Diana blinked.

Dumbledore continued to smile.

And, with a scream that would have befit a dying man, Diana knocked the container from the old wizard's hands. Every fear, every thought she had had since page six-hundred and sixty-one was rising to the surface, bubbling, about to explode. . . .

"No, I _don't _want a bloody lemon drop – particularly not from a man who . . . who should be dead! No, scratch that . . . who shouldn't even _exist _in the first place!"

"Di, calm down!" Kate leaped to her feet, spilling her bowl of soup in the process as she ran to restrain her friend from jumping at the old wizard. "You don't understand. They . . . they're the good guys. . . ."

"Oh! Oh, is _that _what he told you?" Diana laughed, a dry mockery of a laugh. "Of course everyone would believe the great and wise Albus Dumbledore and his oh, so noble entourage."

"Well, it's _true_."

"You didn't hear them!" she screeched. "You didn't _hear _them, Kate! While you were having tea with the _professor _here, they were all sitting around plotting our deaths!"

"What?"

She nodded, hair in total disarray. "That's right. You're lucky you didn't eat that soup or for all you know, you could be _dead _right now!"

"Don't be ridiculous." Ron, for his part, looked very offended – perhaps because of the slight on his mother's cooking – as he reached to grab her swinging fist. "You know that's not true."

"Isn't it?" Eyes narrowed, Diana pointed an incriminating finger toward the Potions Master. "Then why is _he _here? And him." Again, another digit pointed straight at Moody. "He's the one who hatched the plan in the first place, wasn't he?"

"There was never any _plan_!"

"Yeah, like I'll really believe _that _after all this deception. If you haven't noticed, the world thinks you're dead . . . that you don't even _exist_! That you're . . . you're figments of the imagination! And you just went right along with it!"

"Diana, please," Remus began, pleading now. "Please, just let us explain."

"And _you_, Remus! You were the _worst_! You made me trust you, and . . . and you didn't even tell me the _truth_!"

"I couldn't. Do you know what that would do to our security?"

"I guess I do, since you're planning on _killing _me!"

"No. . . ."

"But . . . but do you know how much you _meant _to me?" Diana shrieked, tears falling unabashedly down her face. "_Do you? _I was _heartbroken _when you . . . well, when you _supposedly _died. I _loved _you! I . . . I planned our wedding . . . I dreamed of having your _babies_! I built a shrine to you in my _closet_!"

"You did?" Kate's eyes were wide.

She barely registered Remus's shocked expression and Snape's amused smirk. It didn't matter. She was going to die, anyway. "You _lied _to me. It was all a lie."

Then, everything went dark.

_This is happening far too often. . . ._

**. . .**

". . .tell her the truth?" Diana rose through the mist of unconsciousness to hear the too-familiar voice of Alastor Moody growling in her ear and stifled a groan. She had half-hoped this had all been a dream. A severely messed-up dream.

She had hoped to have woken in her own bed, clutching Amy's old stuffed wolf in her arms or, better yet . . . on the eve of July twenty-first, filled with happiness at the very _thought _of the seventh book, its' release only hours away. If she could only go back then she wouldn't have let this happen in the first place. She never would have made such a fuss and her parents would never have brought her to those stupid psychologists.

And none of this ever would have happened.

"You _have _to tell her." Kate's indignant voice startled Diana from her musings and she wanted to leap up and hug her best friend. She was still alive . . . that had to mean _something_.

"And why is that, Miss Maxwell?"

"Because if you don't . . . if you don't, she won't listen to a thing you have to say. I know my friend, Professor and if you want her trust you have to earn it. And _you_," she said accusingly, "just seemed to have totally broken it. She _trusted _you."

Diana, in her half-awake state, wasn't sure who her friend was addressing until Remus's hoarse voice sounded in her ear. "I know." He sounded sad.

_Well, good, _Diana thought, basking in the man's obvious unhappiness. _He deserves it. It's his fault that all this happened in the first place. _Involuntarily, a growl sounded, low in her throat and footsteps rushed to her bedside. She fought the urge to curse.

"Is she waking up?"

"Yes, yes, I believe so."

"Severus, you have the potion?" _Potion? What potion?_

"Yes, Headmaster, though I hardly think the girl deserves it. She appears to be quite as dramatic as all children nowadays – so caught up in her own difficult life." Diana felt herself bristle; it wasn't _him _that had been kidnapped and heard her own death being planned!

"Well, this _has _come as a bit of a shock, Severus. Perhaps you could be a bit more understanding." The only sign the Potions Master had heard was a noncommittal grunt.

"Molly, could you-?"

"Of course, Albus. Diana, Diana, dear, are you awake? Come now, dear, no one is going to harm you. Professor Dumbledore himself promised."

Still, she endeavored to stay as immobile as possible. They had hoodwinked her often enough before, why shouldn't they now?

"Diana?"

"Stupid girl." Quite abruptly, cold fingers were placed to her forehead and she fought not to shiver, instead shutting her eyes still tighter. Maybe, just maybe, if she thought about home hard enough, all this would go away.

_There's no place like home . . . there's no place like home. . . ._

She felt her lips move in a dry laugh and, in that instant, felt a cool potion poured – no, _forced –_ down her dry, unwilling throat. She sputtered, gasping and choking as she sat up, hardly heeding Mrs. Weasley's consoling voice or Kate's gentle reassurances.

_They poisoned me._ It was just as she had thought . . . perhaps they needed Kate to answer some questions; she had trusted them easier. Diana didn't suppose she could blame her; after all, she needed someone to turn to after the disastrous events of a few weeks ago . . . but, for some stupid reason, she had thought that someone could have been her. Her and Kate . . . and maybe even Rachel, they could've worked something out. . . .

But it was too late for that now. Her racing heartbeat was slowing as a strange calm settled over her. Well, that was nice . . . at least they had endeavored to make it as pain-free as possible. Probably Mrs. Weasley or Remus's work. . . .

"Diana? Di, can you hear me?" Kate's blond head was bobbing in front of her, looking anxious. What did _she _have to worry about? Still, Kate was her best friend, her sister in all but blood, she deserved to know. Wordlessly, she nodded her head.

Kate's face split into a grin. "Great! That's great, Di. Now, you need to listen, alright? This isn't poison, it's just. . . ."

_Not poison? _What was she talking about. How could it _not _be poison? What other possible reason could these people have for shoving an unknown liquid down her throat? Was Snape planning on using her as a human guinea pig of some sort? But no, Dumbledore would never allow that. . . . Fervently, she shook her head.

"Di? You need to calm yourself, alright? Snape, er . . . I mean _Professor _Snape, says the potion can only do so much. You need to work with it. Don't you trust me?"

"Wh-what?" Diana wanted to just cover her face with her hands and pretend this wasn't happening. Alright, they weren't planning on killing her or Kate – not _now_, at least – but then, what _were _they doing?

"It's a Calming Draught, dear." Mrs. Weasley's soothing voice broke into her thoughts. "Professor Snape brewed it while you were unconscious, you looked like you needed it." She chuckled in a motherly fashion, stroking a strand of Diana's sweat-drenched hair from her face.

"You've been through the wars, haven't you?" she crooned. "You and Kate should just get a good night's sleep and. . . ."

"Not just yet, Molly," Dumbledore ordered. The old headmaster spoke quite serenely, yet his tone brooked no room for arguments. "These young ladies asked for the truth and they shall receive it."

"Albus, they've had a hard day. They really should. . . ."

"Later, Molly," Dumbledore repeated. "What is important now is that we act and act quickly. Alas, I am afraid that, in all our secrecy, we have forgotten how to use common courtesy. Not too uncommon a fate, I suppose." His gaze traveled over the assembled witches and wizards, his blue eyes lackluster and looking every day of his one-hundred and fifty years.

He turned, seeming to glide in his long robes toward the two girls settled on the bed.

"I am sorry, Diana." The voice was so soft, so sad that, for a moment, Diana thought it was the headmaster who had spoken . . . yet his mouth had not moved.

It was Remus.

Part of Diana desperately wanted to turn away, to pretend he hadn't spoken, to take Dumbledore's extended hand, sealing her trust in him and him alone. Dumbledore had been honest with her from the start; he wouldn't _dream _of lying to her. And here Remus thought that one little apology could make everything all better, like a mother's kiss on a scraped knee. She might have never seen her mother again because of him!

_Never._

Some things were unforgivable.

Yet, somehow, Diana could not seem to tear her eyes away from his own golden orbs. They were hypnotizing. Holding her gaze like a precious gift, he slowly moved toward the bed sitting down opposite the blond.

"I am. Please, if you believe nothing else that comes out of my mouth, believe that."

"Wow," Kate muttered. "With all due respect, Professor, that's really cheesy."

The older man barely cracked a grin, his eyes still locked with Diana's. Swallowing over the lump that had gathered in his throat, he continued.

"And, if you can, I need you to trust me, Diana. I can't tell you how much it would hurt me if, after all this, I lost your trust. Please. Trust me like you trusted Thaddeus."

Out of the corner of her eye, Diana watched Kate and Snape exchange glances, barely hiding their matching smirks. _I never thought I'd see the day. . . ._

But that didn't matter right now, all that mattered was the pair of kind, anxious eyes in front of her. They neither wavered nor blink; they were merely waiting. Waiting for her answer. Ever so slowly, Diana Lark nodded.

"OK." The way his eyes lit up, she felt as if she had just accepted his proposal of marriage. She smiled to herself at the thought, then grasped Remus's outstretched hand as he pulled her from the comfortable bed.

She stumbled, unfamiliar with the cold, wooden floor, hopping frantically from one foot of the other. Vaguely, she heard Remus chuckle before a hand was placed on her back, steadying her as they walked toward the door, Professor Dumbledore and Kate following in their wake.

Diana wasn't sure where they were going, wasn't sure if she cared. All she knew was this:

She wasn't dead.

She was with Remus Lupin, Professor R.J. Lupin, werewolf extraordinaire.

And she was heading toward the truth.

Some things were unforgivable, but this one certainly wasn't.

**. . .**

**A/N: **OK, I had originally planned for this chapter to be longer and to give you all nice and juicy details on the TRUTH that I'm sure you (and Diana) have all been dying to know. But . . . I did want to give you guys something without waiting another four or five months to write the rest of the chapter.

Remember, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and Chapter Seven will include the much-awaited mysteries.

~Lizzy Lovegood


	8. Purists

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Still don't own it.

**Chapter Seven: Purists**

_July 31, 1991 – 10:00 AM_

Diana felt nauseous.

Swaying on her feet, she found herself steadied by Remus, his hand curled protectively around her forearm. Thrills traveled up and down her spine – he was _touching _her – feelings she did her best to ignore as the scene solidified around them.

"Is this the Hogwarts Express, do you think?" Kate gave voice to Diana's own thoughts.

"Maybe. . . ."

But no, there were no robes or hooting owls, no wands or broomsticks – just a bunch of mundane Muggle businessmen, briefcases as shiny as their shoes.

They reminded Diana forcefully of her father.

"Professor, what. . . ?"

The headmaster did not reply, only nodded – almost imperceptibly – toward a pair of seats near the very back of the train, a pair of seats where a large, bearded man sat knitting what appeared to be a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" Hagrid asked, addressing the skinny boy sitting opposite.

Nodding, Harry – so easy to ignore when viewed next to the gamekeeper's bulk – took the parchment out of his pocket. Diana had to suppress a gasp – he was _exactly _as Jo had described him.

She wasn't sure what she had expected – blue eyes like Radcliffe's, maybe, some discrepancy in appearance or personality – but _this _. . . this was _Harry_. Not the countless fan fiction versions – where he was a Slytherin or in love with Draco or adopted by Sirius – or even Daniel Radcliffe's portrayal, but the real, live Harry.

The hesitant eleven-year-old boy, ready to take his place in the wizarding world.

The Harry that they all knew and loved, who Jo had . . . known?

But _how _had she known?

"Look!" Kate hissed excitedly – seeming half-afraid that they would be heard by the inhabitants of this seventeen-year-old memory – pointing, not to Hagrid and Harry, but across the aisle where a woman, strawberry-blonde, sat perusing a thick piece of parchment.

"_One wand, one cauldron – pewter, standard size two_. . . ." Harry read on, oblivious to his missing letter. Diana could only supposed it had slipped out of his pocket as he had extracted the enclosed list.

Both girls moved to peer over the woman's shoulder, lips forming the words they had seen a hundred times before. . . .

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

The woman looked as if she could hardly believe what she was seeing. She rubbed at her eyes, blinking rapidly before she returned her gaze to the paper.

The emerald-green ink shimmered benignly on the curled and yellowed page.

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry asked.

"If yeh know where to go."

Forehead furrowed in thought, Diana watched the twenty-five-year-old Joanne Rowling glance from the letter to the two wizards and back again . . . before sticking the parchment into her pocket.

**. . .**

"Yeh're sure yeh didn' drop it somewhere, Harry? One o' the shops, maybe?"

Harry only shook his head, frantically – and fruitlessly – searching his pockets. His hamburger and fries sat, forgotten, on the Formica. "No, I didn't go into my pocket for anything, you had my moneybag the whole time. Only . . . only – oh, _no_."

"Wha'?"

"When I took my list out on the train. What if it fell out, then . . . and someone found it? God, I'm so _stupid_!"

"C'mon, now, don' say that. You're not stupid, you jus' made a mistake." Hagrid patted Harry's shoulder, sending him sinking several inches lower into his seat. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"But if someone – a Muggle – finds out. . . ."

"Mem'ry Charm," Hagrid explained, shrugging as he took a sip of soda.

"Excuse me." Joanne was approaching with a fast-food bag in one hand and the rolled-up parchment in the other. "I think I might have what you're looking for."

**. . .**

_September 6, 1991 – 9:00 AM_

Tense with anticipation, Diana couldn't help but sigh, disappointed, as the tables and goblets of the Great Hall materialized around her. She had expected a meeting of the Wizengamot, a conference with Dumbledore at the very least. A Muggle, one with no wizarding relations, had discovered the existence of their world and they had nothing to say about it?

Head cocked, she watched a young Hufflepuff take a swig of pumpkin juice.

What was going on here?

Confused, she turned to Dumbledore who, smiling serenely, continued to study the enchanted ceiling as if searching for meaning in its periwinkle depths.

"Professor. . . ?"

"Watch, Diana." No sooner had Remus spoken than a flurry of wings – brown, gray, white – had swept into the room. Some owls held simple scrolls of parchment while others bore the weight of numerous packages and papers.

A snowy landed at the far right of the Hall and, allowing only for Dumbledore's say-so, Diana approached its recipient. Gratefully, Harry stroked Hedwig's downy feathers before removing the two letters from her leg.

_Two?_

The first, as she had expected, contained Hagrid's untidy scrawl and Harry, his expression brightening, was quick to scribble a reply. With the next, however, he was more furtive.

Could it be?

A glance toward the signature confirmed what some small part of her had already known.

But how _could_ it be her? How was that possible?

"Kate, Kate, look. . . ." Diana snagged at her friend's arm.

"_What?_" Inspecting a muscled and gray-eyed Hufflepuff, Kate was reluctant to be drawn away.

"You can moon over Cedric later. Come on!"

"_Mooning? _I was not. . . ."

"Kate, just _look_!" Gesturing flamboyantly, she nearly smacked an eleven-year-old Ron upside the head.

"Oh, sor-"

Kate snorted, already squinting over the other boy's shoulder. Her lips mouthed the words: _Dear Harry_.

_Please don't think that I'm trying to be a pest. The fact that Headmaster Dumbledore trusted me enough to allow me to keep the memories – no matter how fleeting – of your world means more than I can say. The thought of Diagon Alley and Hogwarts brightens even the worst of my days._

_ Your owl showed up here and I gave her some crackers and left the window open, but she wouldn't leave. She is actually an extremely intelligent creature and, when she saw my notebook, flew over to it and wouldn't leave until I wrote something._

_ I'm not one to believe in destiny or fate and I believe that each of us makes our own choices but, in this case, we seem to have been brought together by nothing less. What can we do but act on them? I hope I'm not being too complicated. If your owl returns again, would you consider being – for lack of a better word – pen pals?_

_ I promise you can trust me. I know how much betrayal hurts._

_Sincerely,_

_Joanne Rowling_

_P.S. Does your owl have a name?_

Diana watched, entranced, as Harry studied the letter. He mouthed the words: _The thought of Diagon Alley and Hogwarts brightens even the worst of my days_.

Over and over, his finger traced the words.

_Worst of my days _. . ._ worst of my days_. . . .

Hedwig, exceptionally patient, helped herself to some of Harry's bacon rinds.

_Worst of my days_. . . .

"Well, we don't want to be late for Snape," Ron sighed, looking sadly at his leftover breakfast. "You coming, Harry?"

"Yeah, hold on a sec."

_ Her name is Hedwig, _he wrote. _I trust you._

**. . .**

_December 31, 1991 – 1:30 AM_

The fireplace – now down to its last few embers – was the only source of light in the scarlet common room. Flames dancing over holiday detritus – wrapping paper, sweet wrappers, red and green ribbons – Diana at first didn't notice the solitary figure, curled in a chair next to the window.

Behind her, Remus and Dumbledore's wands flared to life, revealing the figure, his green eyes glazed with tears.

Harry, his glasses askew, seemed ignorant of the tears streaming down his face. Over and over, he smoothed the paper he held with such a death grip; over and over, his mouth formed one word.

"Mum," he whispered.

Diana didn't have to look at the snow frosting the windows, the abandoned Christmas candy, to know what it would say. Nevertheless, she and Kate bent, as one, to see the note.

_Dear Harry,_

_ I cried when I read your letter. Headmaster Dumbledore told me you were an orphan, but I never told you my story. My mother died a year ago after a long and hard battle with MS. I can't imagine that that matches the pain you must be feeling – at least I knew my mother – but if you ever do need to talk, I'm here._

_ The headmaster is right, Harry. You should not dwell on dreams and forget to live. So many people who love and care for you aren't trapped behind a mirror, they're right here._

_Love,_

_Joanne_

**. . .**

No scene materialized around the group this time but, floating in some odd limbo, a voice – Harry's – sounded aloud. The memories, blurred together, became mere snippets, echoes of a time long past.

_Dear Harry,_

_Are you alright? I can't believe Quirrell. . . ._

_. . ._

_Dear Harry,_

_Don't worry, I would never think you. . . ._

_. . ._

_Dear Harry,_

_Tell Dobby. . . ._

_. . ._

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm so proud . . . Sirius Black. . . ._

_. . ._

_Dear Harry,_

_I know I must sound like a broken record, but be careful. . . ._

_. . ._

_Dear Harry,_

_He's back? God, oh God . . . I can't believe the Minister himself. . . ._

_. . ._

_Dear Harry,_

_Might have to stop this soon . . . if Umbridge. . . ._

**. . .**

_June 7, 1996 – 4:00 PM_

"Albus, how can you even _consider_. . . ?"

"Harry and his friends trust her, Alastor. In my experience – and I have not inconsiderable experience, may I remind you – Harry is usually right."

"Except about Black a few days ago, eh?"

From behind Diana came a sharp intake of breath. Turning, she saw Harry, shoulders hunched, sitting on a bright-orange bedspread. On either side sat Ron and Hermione, the latter with a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

"As if he has a right to say that," Ginny hissed, glaring at the door "Like he's not a total paranoid maniac"

"Doesn't he, though?" Voice sounding wearier than any fifteen-year-old boy's had a right to, he sighed. "I mean, I _was _wrong. . . . Ow! What was that?" He turned angrily to Hermione.

"Don't you go blaming yourself, Harry Potter." She raised her wand threatening. "Sirius has nothing to do with it. Moody's just refusing to listen to sense."

"Yeah." Ron nodded in agreement. Then, "I mean, we _can _trust her, can't we?"

"Ron!"

"Of course we can trust her. Harry does, doesn't he?" Ginny spoke as if that settled the matter and a grateful smile lit Harry's features. He stared into space for a few seconds, the girl's red hair dancing in the corners of his vision, before replying.

"Yeah, I reckon if she was going to turn us in, it would've been before Voldemort came back. She doesn't really stand much to gain, does she? If Muggles tried anything against him, they'd be slaughtered."

"Plus, she probably wouldn't have asked permission," Ginny added. "Of course, I thought it was a brilliant idea from the start."

"Why?" Ron had difficulty hiding his incredulous expression.

Hermione scoffed. "Oh, Ron, don't be thick. What better way to stop suspicion than to have it published as fiction?"

"But if someone sees something. . . ."

"This is war, Ron. Muggles are bound to notice some things either way; it's what they choose to interpret it as that's up to us. Think about it, if a kid sees something, everyone will just think they're imagining things – _oh, it's just those _Harry Potter _books again_. . . ."

"And if an adult sees something?" Ron seemed determined to find some hole in her logic.

"Well, it's like your dad says, isn't it?"

"Erm. . . ."

"Muggles will go to any lengths to ignore magic even if it's staring them in the face," she quoted, as if from memory.

"How do you _remember _stuff like that?" Ron muttered.

"I _listen_, Ron. . . ."

"So you're saying that, if Jo does go ahead and publish, it won't actually do any harm?" Harry interjected, anxious to avoid an argument.

Hermione nodded. "If anything, it will help our cause. Muggles won't read too much into what they see since there's already a book series about it. They'll second-guess themselves. I mean, after all, it's. . . ."

Harry grinned and, for just a moment, resembled an eleven-year-old again, awed at the idea of a magical world.

_The thought of Diagon Alley and Hogwarts brightens even the worst of my days._

"Just a story."

**. . .**

_June 16, 1997 – 11:30 PM_

The bright white walls of the hospital wing created a startling contrast to Ron's violently orange room. Spots of color exploded in Diana's vision and she was forced to blink furiously before the scene could materialize around her.

Curtains surrounded two of the beds but they posed no obstruction to the small group. Waiting only for the headmaster's nod, she ducked through to see that one cot contained a young man with shoulder-length, red hair – Bill Weasley, presumably. Scars marred his handsome features, marks that a pretty blond was now dabbing at with a nasty-smelling ointment. Directly behind her hovered Mrs. Weasley, eyes puffy and swollen.

"Dear, are you sure you don't. . . ?" Tentatively, she reached for the ointment, hiccuping dryly.

"I vill be fine, thank you." Fleur's reply was short but her blue eyes were soft as they surveyed her future mother-in-law. "How is the 'eadmaster? Professor Dumbledore?"

_Dumbledore?_

"Diana, wait. . . ." A hand reached out to catch her shoulder but Diana brushed it away. Pushing past the women as if they were insubstantial as air, she moved quickly to the second curtained cot. Through the curtains, Kate on her heels, and . . . her breath caught in her throat.

_Dumbledore. . . . _

So vastly divergent was the reality from the series itself, Diana had assumed everything had turned out alright. She could have kicked herself for being so thick. Cedric and Sirius had died, hadn't they?

Well, yes, but she hadn't witnessed that. This. . . .

The man lying on the hospital bed could have been a corpse. Paper-white and immobile, the only sign of life was the infinitesimal rise and fall of his chest. Bandages wrapped around his lower torso did not completely hide the red blossom staining his skin.

Albus Dumbledore looked every day of his hundred and fifty years.

A wrinkled hand was placed on her shoulder and Diana turned to face this half-dead man's twin. She couldn't speak.

"What _happened _to you?" Kate, looking near tears, asked the question for her.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk._

A large group of people exited an office at the end of the ward and began making their way up the aisle.

"Purists?" Hermione scurried to keep up with Moody's determined, peg-leg stride. "But Professor Moody, what are they? I've never even heard. . . ."

"Well, you're not really supposed to hear of them, are you?" Moody laughed bitterly. "That means they're doing their job, don't it?"

"Yes, but what _are _they?"

Moody sighed deeply. Drawing back the curtains around Dumbledore's cot, he settled into a chair. Numerous members of the Order and Dumbledore's Army did the same including, of course, the Golden Trio. Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Weasley stole away from Bill to join them.

"Purists, Granger," Moody growled, "are as bad as the Death Eaters in their own way."

"Is that why they were helping them, then?" Ron demanded.

"Ron, shh." Hermione shot him a reproachful look.

"That's a decent question, laddy, but it's one I can't give you an answer to. I don't think Albus himself could. You-Know-Who promises a lot of things, my guess is he promised the Purists he could fix them."

"_Fix _them?" Harry echoed. "What's that mean?"

"Make them Muggle. Purists are wizards just like us, you see. Thing is, they're disgusted by what they can do. They think magic's something unnatural."

"That's insane!" Ron couldn't seem to help himself. "I mean, it's about the most natural thing there is!"

"You don't need to tell _me _that, lad but the Purists aren't exactly, er. . . ."

"Mentally stable?" Professor McGonagall offered.

"Thank you, Minerva. They think any witch or wizard is an abomination to society and they want to eliminate all of them."

"Kill them, you mean?" Hermione asked.

"If there's no other option. They'd rather not if they don't have to; anyone they can convince, they decide to 'fix.' They think it's only a matter of time till a cure is developed."

"And anyone else?"

For answer, Moody could only nod toward the bed between them. "They like to use Muggle methods. Harder to treat magically, too."

"But where does all that magic _go_?" McGonagall, her hair falling out of its neat bun, seemed genuinely fascinated. "Witches or wizards can't deny their heritage just like that. That magic has to find some outlet."

A grim nod. "It does, Minerva. It explodes out of them. They can't help it and when it does . . . total destruction. Ariana. . . ."

"Ariana? Who's that?" Ginny asked.

Moody looked surprised. "You don't know? She was Albus's sister, one of the first Purists. They converted young back then. . . . It killed him to have to do what he did."

Hermione looked revolted. "Are you saying Professor Dumbledore killed. . . ?"

"In a war, you have to do a lot of things you don't want to do, Granger," Moody growled. "You'd better start learning that if you want to survive."

"Alastor," the past-Remus warned. Though a decade younger, this Remus's expression seemed so much more weary, the lines in his face more deeply etched.

War could do that to a person, Diana supposed. And peace could do the same. Look at Dumbledore. With his half-moon spectacles and serene expression, she could hardly imagine he had once killed his own sister. . . . Jo had certainly painted _that _differently.

_And what about you, Diana? Will you be able to play your part?_

But she didn't have a part to play. She wasn't a witch, just a fan.

"We all have our part to play." The ex-Auror spoke to Remus but it was as if he had read Diana's mind. "And you, Potter, you'd better speak to that girlfriend of yours."

"What? I. . . ." Harry flushed crimson.

"That Muggle."

"Jo?" Harry managed a nervous laugh, stealing a glance at Ginny. "Why?"

"Like I said, we all have our parts. It'll be her job to keep us safe."

"Alastor, she's a young woman. You can't expect her to . . . to kill for us, or. . . ." Professor McGonagall barely maintained a semblance of calm.

"Not _that_, woman!" Moody ran a distracted hand through his grizzled mane. "Those books she's writing. You can bet the Purists'll be keeping track of those. . . ."

"Of course, they wouldn't want the evil sorcerers converting the Muggles, now would they?" Hermione mused bitterly.

Moody grunted in affirmation. "Exactly, Granger. So these books . . . they'll be our secret weapon. My guess is they thought they killed Albus here; if they catch wind that he's recovered, they'll be sure to try again. And they won't fail this time. Potter, it'll be your job to convince your friend that he's dead. Don't mention the Purists, the less people who know the better, Muggles especially."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"They would try to convert them, I expect," Hermione answered. "Some Muggles that have really twisted beliefs. They're as bad as the Death Eaters in some ways."

"But . . . but it's just fiction. Fantasy and – and imagination." Ron looked helplessly toward Hermione. "Isn't it?"

For just a moment, Moody's expression appeared pitying, almost regretful. The line of his mouth softened slightly at any rate. "It isn't fiction anymore, boy. It's something we have to use to our advantage. We'll spread the word that Albus is dead. Anyone else is put in danger and we'll do the same. . . ."

"But what story can I tell her?" Harry asked. "I mean, without mentioning the Purists."

"Use your imagination, Potter. We'll need it, soon enough. There are hard times ahead."

"Death Eaters, Purists. . . . You're sure there's not anything else you forgot to mention, Mad-Eye?" Tonks laughed, albeit a bit nervously, from her position beside Remus.

Moody's answer was as cryptic as the currently-unconscious headmaster's. "Not yet."

**. . .**

_May 6, 1998 – 7:30 AM_

Screams split the air before Diana's surroundings had coalesced entirely around her. Stumbling through the silvery mist, it took her a moment to recognize the dust and debris floating down around her as the reality.

Squinting in the dimness, she spotted Kate's bright blond head to her right, directly before frightened shouts again split the unnatural silence. The two girls clutched each other close, exchanging terrified glances. Where _were _they?

"Ron! Ron, where are you?"

"Luna"

"Remus . . . _Remus_!" A sharp intake of breath came from her left as Remus watched a pink-haired witch, her hands questing like a blind man, stumble through the haze.

"Harry? Har- . . . oh, this is stupid. _Lumos!_" Diana squeaked in surprise as Ron's and Hermione's weathered faces swam from the gloom.

"Smart move, Granger." Moody stumped into view, passing by Kate and Dumbledore without a word. "Bastards got my wand, or I'd do the same. . . . Well, who has a wand? Go on – _Lumos_!"

A few soft murmurs and a dozen more faces bobbed in the wavering light.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. Brown hair flying, she dashed off down the corridor with Ron in close pursuit. At the far end of the hall leant a head of black hair, barely distinguishable in the fog.

Diana started to follow, but then, "No . . . _no_!"

Diana started back, into Remus's firm chest. Something was horribly, terribly wrong. They shouldn't be here.

"Go on," he said softly.

"No . . . this isn't right."

"You need to know. Go on." Inexorably, he pushed her and Kate forward.

Hermione knelt beside Harry now while Ron had fallen to his knees, head in his hands, groaning. Harry didn't make a sound but merely sat, head bowed, carding bloodstained fingers through long, red hair, a hue that matched the rapidly-spreading spot in the center of her chest.

"Ginny!" With an inhuman cry, Mrs. Weasley fell to her knees beside her daughter. Half-sobbing, half-screaming, she shook the lifeless body but to no avail. Ginny's eyes, the same shade as her mother's, stared at nothing.

"How?" Beside his wife, Arthur Weasley's voice was hollow, uncomprehending.

"Caught us when our guard was down, that's how," Moody growled. His normal eye fixed expressionlessly on Ginny while his magical pupil swiveled to take in all of the assembled company. "Voldemort dead, Death Eaters captured, we relaxed. _They _sure didn't. . . . Probably just waiting for when Voldemort took over, figured he'd give them a nice fat payment, fix them up, for all their help. Couldn't have been too happy when we killed their best ally, could they?" His face twisted in a demented laugh, it echoed strangely in the gloom.

Total silence reigned for a few moments, save for Mrs. Weasley's dry sobs.

"It's not funny though, is it?" Moody's voice was almost a snarl now; he could've been speaking to himself or to the room at large. "We didn't maintain vigilance, that's what happened, we didn't maintain _constant bloody VIGILANCE_!"

Ron, his hand on Hermione's shoulder now, couldn't help but jump.

"And that can _never _happen again. A girl's dead because of this. Potter," he demanded suddenly, "how much have you told that Muggle?"

Face and tone expressionless, Harry didn't even bother correcting the older man. "Just about Voldemort."

Moody's grizzled mane shook as he nodded in approval. "Good. Everyone go and get ready. We leave tonight."

"Hang on, what about Ginny?" Ron's ears flushed angrily. "We need to do something, a funeral. . . ." Harry, too, was nodding in agreement.

"We can't just leave, Alastor," added Mr. Weasley. We have homes here, families. . . . How will we explain?"

"Nothing a few Memory Charms can't fix." And, at the man's horrified expression, "Look, it's that or death, Arthur. _We _are the ones the Purists want. They'll track us to the ends of the earth, the smartest thing to do is disappear."

"Where will we go?" Luna's eyes were wide and curious.

"The safe-house where Albus is." Moody seemed relieved that someone was finally talking sense. "It has the strongest enchantments known to wizard. Of course, that's only the beginning. It's not easy to disappear, even with magic."

"So we'll be dead to the world, you're saying," Harry asked. He didn't seem angry, Diana thought, just matter-of-fact.

"Yes, Potter. That's precisely it."

_The thought of Diagon Alley and Hogwarts brightens even the worst of my days. _The long-ago letter seemed to echo just as had Moody's bizarre cackle. Harry's face twisted grimly.

Good luck with that, Jo. Really.

**. . .**

_August 8, 2007 – 10:30 PM_

As the mist diffused this time, Kate found herself standing on cold tiles of what she presumed to be the safe-house. The Pensieve stood, ever-innocuous, on a side-table. With its swirling vapors, the magical instrument seemed incapable of holding the horrors she had just witnessed.

"Wow," Kate whispered beside her.

"Yeah." It was only then that Diana realized she was crying.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her and, instinctively, she buried herself in them. Dumbledore – she could hardly believe he had killed his own sister – Ginny, dead on the floor. How many other lives had been lost in this distorted reality? She had not seen Hagrid in that final scene . . . Fred and George had been missing, too. . . . Dear God, did the Weasleys really need another child dead?

"It's not fair." Futilely, childishly she hammered at her comforter's chest.

"I know, I know. . . ." Remus's hand ran soothingly along her back, but no sparks erupted in her this time. Remus was real – true skin and flesh – it was true. Just as real as the memories she had just witnessed, horrible as they might be. . . .

And Jo had never known. Her murders, save those of Cedric and Sirius, had had some kind of poetic justice and given credence to the convoluted plot. Here, there was no justice. It was as Moody had said, it wasn't fiction anymore. To them, it never had been.

And to Diana? It was a distorted reflection.

Her shoulders hitched and the arms around her tightened. She couldn't have shrugged them off even if she wanted to. This was her reality now.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk._

"_Obliviate_."

**A/N: **Dun, dun, _dun_. . . . Hope you liked my little cliffy there. ;)

Remember, press that little Review button and tell me if you liked it or not. I'll try to get the next chapter out soon. My semester's basically over so I have more time to write. Only one more after this and I'll be able to graduate! :D


	9. Half Life

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own it. However, I am now the proud owner of an "I Love Remus" tank-top which I will be wearing to _Deathly Hallows _on Friday! :D

**A/N: **Dedicated to **InsanelyWitchyMarauderette **whose review got me off my ass – yet again – and to my laptop. Thanks!

**A/N: **Also, random question, has anyone else gotten the book _Dear Mr. Potter_? It's a ton of inspirational letters from Harry Potter fans all over the world – including one from Evanna Lynch! I just started reading it last night and I love it!

Plus, it is published by the Harry Potter Alliance so all of the proceeds go toward furthering youth literacy.

To buy your own copy go to dearmrpotter dot org.

Hoping I don't sound too much like an advertisement, enjoy the penultimate chapter of _Distorted Reflections_!

**Chapter Eight: Half-Life**

_August 8, 2007 – 10:35 PM_

With an almost-inhuman shriek, Diana tore herself from Remus's loose grip and reached toward her friend.

"Kate – no, Kate. . . ."

Eyes glazed, the girl fell unconscious barely a moment later; Diana was forced to catch her to prevent her from hitting her head on the hardwood floor. Though her breathing was even, Diana felt compelled to check her wrist for a pulse; it beat reassuringly under Diana's shaking fingers.

His greasy black hair a curtain around his face, Snape attempted to divest the body from Diana's tight grip as Dumbledore – with an uncharacteristic strength for his age – drew her away. Diana could only sputter helplessly.

"What. . . ? Why . . . how – how could you? Kate. . . ."

"She is only Stunned, you stupid girl." Snape's reply was all condescension. "If we had wanted to kill you, we would have done so long before now." As if ridding himself of a piece of vile trash – or perhaps shampoo – he lay Kate on the four-poster.

Abruptly, Diana regained her voice; _no one _treated her best friend like that, especially not some hook-nosed Potions professor.

"It comes to the same thing!" she shouted. "Attacking when our backs were turned, it's disgusting . . . and you, I thought you hated that!" She pointed an accusatory finger at Moody and both of his eyes swiveled to face it.

"You heard me, girl. We do what is necessary. It doesn't mean I _like _doing it – Merlin's arse, I can't stand it sometimes – but sometimes there's no other choice. Albus knows that as well as I do."

"You were all in on this, then?" Diana glared fiercely around the room. Her eyes came to rest on Remus; his arms, once tight around her, now lay slack at his sides. His embrace, supposedly meant to comfort or – in her wildest imagination – one of potent attraction, had been only to aid and abet her mind-wipe.

Diana could only count herself lucky that she had reacted as quickly as she did. Unlike Kate, now snoring softly, she had a chance to convince the assembled wizards of their potential.

Moody began to raise his wand and, instinctively, Diana moved closer to Remus.

"What was the point of telling us the truth if you're just going to take it away again?" she asked shrilly. "I mean, we could help you, spy for you. If these Purists are pretending to be Muggles we could find out more about them than you could; no one would suspect teenage girls. We could lead you right to them! We . . . we could _help _you."

Already an eighth book was writing itself in her mind, her childhood fantasy come true! Obviously it would never be published, what with its complete divergence from the storyline; no little girls would ever dress up as Diana Lark or Kate Maxwell for Halloween, but still . . . she could change the world! This was the role she had been meant to play!

Gently, a wrinkled, long-fingered hand worked its way under her chin and tipped her head up. A pair of sympathetic blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles.

Face flushed, Diana tried to avert her gaze, unable to shake the feeling that she was being X-rayed. She didn't need sympathy, not now, not when she had just discovered her true purpose! Remus's hand, resting on her shoulder, tightened ever so subtly, not allowing her to duck away.

"I'm sorry, Diana." Unlike the headmaster's placid stare, the younger man's eyes were morose.

"You've been saying that a lot lately," she snapped. "Why is it this time? Why can't I help?"

"Diana," Dumbledore began, his voice gentle, "the truth is a great and a terrible thing. . . ."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, is that _always_ how you avoid answering people's questions?"

Dumbledore continued, unperturbed. ". . . and therefore, it should be treated with great caution. I do not believe you need to know every detail of our history with the Purists – no, you are still too young. It will only upset you and, I am sad to say, we will only have to take it away from you in the end."

Diana blanched. "But, Professor. . . ."

"However, I will explain what happened to bring you and Miss Maxwell here today and" - Dumbledore nodded his assent - "why your memory must be taken."

From the doorway, Snape grumbled something halfway mutinous. Moody, though he remained silent, seemed to share the same sentiments.

"What was that, Severus?"

"There's not much time, Albus. Her father" - one sallow digit identified Diana – is going crazy, threatening lawsuits left and right. Our situation gets worse every second and you're worried about pleasing a teenage girl. We'll have to move as it is and if we're caught. . . ."

"I think we can afford to wait a few minutes more," Remus replied with the barest tinge of a growl; despite her situation, Diana couldn't help but find it unbearably sexy. "She deserves to know."

"And Kate doesn't?" Anger flared in her again as she forced her logic to overrule Remus's sex appeal.

Silently, the headmaster steered her toward the bed where Kate lay, Remus flanking her other side. Sandwiched between them, Diana felt like a child about to receive a lecture.

"Kate," Dumbledore explained, "would only be upset by the news I am about to impart. She has experienced the cruelty of the Purists firsthand and should not have to relive it."

Diana was stunned. How could Kate, of all people, have had contact with a Purist? Kate, in her tiny Georgia town . . . Kate whose parents had become as conservative as the Dursleys in regards to magic . . . Kate, who had been trapped in the web of that nightmarish man, Robert. . . .

"Green," she whispered.

Dumbledore's eyes hardened as he nodded in assent. "Yes, Green. Since my own attack, I have explored the history of the Purists; Green is one of the more prominent figures. He was Muggle-born and his parents – much worse than Miss Maxwell's – were repulsed by him, what he could do. They refused to let him attend the Salem Institute and, through certain means, turned him against himself. Abilities that should have been miraculous became nothing but an aberration."

"They tortured their own son?" Diana was dumbstruck, could hardly contemplate the idea.

"Not the brand of torture you see in movies, Diana," Remus explained. "They may have smacked him around some, yes, but . . . young people are very malleable. If Green's parents became angry or neglected him at the mention of magic, it would develop a negative connotation for him. Over time, he would begin to detest himself for being the cause of that negativity."

Diana couldn't help but wonder if Remus had attained a psychiatric degree after all.

"Precisely." Dumbledore nodded. "As he grew, Green found others like himself and, eventually, joined the Purists' ranks. However, he took it one step further."

"How?"

The older man sighed deeply and, for a moment, every wrinkle stood out in stark relief. "Up to this point, the Purists had confined their teachings to 'infected' witches and wizards. Muggles weren't in any danger, they thought. But, when Miss Rowling started publishing her books, they saw it as a threat to pure Muggle society. Anyone infected by the books had to be saved – by any means possible."

"And that's what he did to Kate."

"Yes. Spies alerted Green to her 'infection,' and he rushed in. But he wasn't expecting Miss Maxwell's rebelliousness, I think." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled softly.

"That's Kate." Diana smiled, proud of her friend. Then, "Her bruise, I never thought . . . it happened in May and it still looks brand-new. Do you think . . . if he lost control of his magic. . . ?"

"Nice job, girl." Moody's growl contained a trace of pride.

"But . . . but if you take our memories, you'll just be sending Kate straight back there!" Diana exclaimed. "It's only because of you guys that she's safe, my parents'll just send her back home . . . if you don't do it for them. . . ."

"Diana. . . ."

"If Green's as dangerous as you say he is, then she was lucky to escape, you can't just send her back. Her parents won't stand up to Green, they'll let him hurt her! You can't do this. . . ."

"Diana, listen to me." A finger pressed to her lips silenced her and she let Remus's calming tones wash over her.

"We have no intention of sending Kate back," he continued in that same soothing tone. "Albus has been keeping track of certain Purists, Green among them. When we heard about his newest 'project,' we were quick to give her a means of escape."

"But – the little girl, are you saying she. . . ."

Remus shook his head. "Pure coincidence; Kate saw a chance to help and she took it. She is a very precocious young woman, as are you." Diana blushed. "All we did was plant the idea in her mind to escape, a fairly simple spell. . . ."

"Who? You . . . Professor Dumbledore?"

"No, one of our American contacts." Remus chuckled at her confused expression. "Witches and wizards exist outside of the UK, Diana."

Pink stains lit the girl's cheeks, this time at her own naivete. "But her parents, wouldn't they have realized? I mean, she's been gone for a couple of weeks now. . . ."

"Memory Charms," Remus replied, nonchalant as Hagrid had been. Diana wondered how these people could take the erasure of time so lightly; it was as if it meant nothing to them.

_We do what is necessary._

But _was _it necessary?

If Green were captured, then. . . .

"Neither Mr. or Mrs. Maxwell will have memory of Robert Green or of their missing daughter," Remus explained. "To their minds, Pastor Briggs left only a short while ago."

"But who'll replace Green, then? You're not just going to let him. . . ."

"Of course not." Remus rubbed her shoulder comfortingly and Diana relaxed into the massage. "Robert Green is . . . will no longer be a danger to you or to anyone."

"Did you kill. . . ?"

"He will no longer be a danger," Snape interjected tersely and Diana knew enough not to question further.

"As for Miss Maxwell," Dumbledore continued, "we were not aware of the connection between you two until your sessions with Dr. Linnaeus. She will be returned to her parents who will decide that the job market up north is better after all."

"You mean, they're moving back?" Diana cried.

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes were the only reply.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, _thank you_!" Face flushed with excitement, Diana felt as effusive as Dobby the house-elf.

"Can we get on with this now?" Moody grumbled, reaching for his wand.

"Wait – no!" Diana ignored Moody's exasperated eye-roll – quite a feat – and Snape's sneer as she rushed onward. "You said that Green wasn't a danger to us anymore. No one knows who we are now – we can help you!"

"Diana," Remus said gently, "you're only sixteen."

"So? By the time Harry was sixteen, he'd saved all your asses a half-dozen times! The scariest thing I've ever done is an Algebra exam, I _deserve _this! I can do it, I know I. . . ."

"Diana, the danger, you can't imagine. . . . I know you want to help but these people, they are unstable. You could be killed. . . ."

"You could protect me," Diana answered. "You know magic and I know Muggles, we could go on missions together. . . ."

"No, that isn't what I. . . ." Remus broke off, kneading his forehead wearily. There were deep shadows under his eyes, she wondered how long it had been since he had last slept, how long since his last transformation. She wished she had her calendar with her, she'd have to keep track now. . . .

"What the werewolf is _trying _to say," Snape drawled, seeming to glide forward in his billowing black robes, "is that you are too . . . _innocent _for this job."

"I'm not innocent! I. . . ."

"It isn't an insult, you foolish girl," he snapped. "In all your ignorance, you completely forget the horror of the job. Magic is not all miracles. Magic cannot bring Miss Weasley back from the dead. The magical world, Miss Lark, can be as bad as your world. Those memories you saw – they are only the beginning. Do you want to always be on the run, to always be an inch from death? Do you want to watch your best friend die in front of you, to be powerless to stop it? To know that it was _your fault _because you insisted that your way was the right way? For once, Miss Lark, hold your _tongue_!"

"Severus," Dumbledore chided, "there was no need for that."

"Yes, Albus, there was. You believe the girl deserves to know certain things and you've told her. I have not protested. But she needs to hear this, too; she needs to be informed as to the true reason we're doing this. I've killed too many innocent people to let a girl go off thinking we're these . . . monsters, who can't even give her a satisfactory answer for our actions. You and Lupin simply care too much to give her the truth."

Over Diana's shoulder, Remus managed a wan smile. "You've got that right at any rate, Severus."

"That's really why?" Diana asked, her voice hushed.

"Live your life, Diana," Dumbledore said gently. "This is not a life for a young, vibrant girl. We work to protect you from this life. . . ."

"This half-life," Snape murmured.

"But . . . what if I remember?" Diana asked, half-begging. For what, she wasn't sure. Did she want to go home or not? "Lockhart was Obliviated and . . . and he half-remembered who he was, signed autographs and all that. What if I come looking for you? It would be safer for me to stay with you, wouldn't it?"

"Lockhart's Obliviation was performed with a faulty wand, if you remember," Dumbledore explained. "In your case, it will be performed by one that is entirely intact. All memories of us will be wiped."

"What about Linnaeus? And the Potterholics?" Diana turned beseechingly toward Remus.

"You're cured," he replied, that wan smile never leaving his face. "Left in place of us will be only a feeling of contentment. You will not know where it comes from but you will be happy. You will finish the seventh book, you will live your life. We will do the same with the rest of PHA."

"How does the book end?" she asked eagerly. She had almost forgotten about the book, reality and fiction had so overlapped. "Do you come back?"

"You'll have to read it yourself when you get back home," he said. "No spoilers, remember."

"Alright," she said. "I will."

_Clunk, clunk, clunk._

"You ready, Albus?" Moody asked, barely containing his impatience.

"Wait . . . does he have to do it? Can you?" Diana asked, turning to Remus.

"I suppose so. . . . Albus?"

"Whenever you're ready, my boy. And you, of course, Diana."

Grimly, Diana nodded before sliding so she lay flat on her back on the bed. Kate's blond hair tickled her nose. She watched Moody limp away, mumbling about time-wasters, probably going to complain to the other occupants.

Vaguely, she wondered what Mrs. Weasley was planning on making for breakfast. Maybe she could convince them to let her stay . . . that soup had smelled really nice. . . .

But no, then she would never want to leave. She needed to live.

_So many people who love and care for you aren't trapped behind a mirror, they're right here._

Mom, Dad, Amy, Snuffles, Kate. . . .

She hoped her father hadn't gone through with his threat of a lawsuit. . . .

She wondered how her mother was dealing, were she and Alan still arguing – maybe they really _would _need marriage counseling. She shuddered . . . she didn't want to think of that, she needed to _live_.

A cold wand was placed to her temple and she looked up into Remus's kind brown eyes. At least this request had been answered; his would be the last face she would see, and maybe. . . .

"Remus?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"I know you're married, but . . . would you kiss me?"

Silence for a moment.

"Not Frenching or anything, just. . . ."

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"Yes."

Diana puckered her lips as Remus leaned down and pressed his own chapped pair to hers. Fireworks exploded behind her closed lids. Yes, they were going to get married and have children and grandchildren and she would become an Animagus for him and. . . .

Then it was done. All she had was her shrine, her wedding dress design, and her book of baby names.

"Remus," she whispered, not opening her eyes. She wanted to keep the memory of that kiss as long as she could.

"Diana?"

"I was going to name our daughter Dora, you know. . . ."

"That's nice, just go to sleep now. You've had a long day. . . ."

She _had _had a long day, hadn't she? Eyes tightly shut, exhaustion finally took over. How nice it would be to sleep. . . .

". . . you know, I really like Tonks, y'know? She's nice. And if . . . we had a son . . . his name . . . it would've been Teddy. . . ."

". . . and when you wake up you'll be home."

". . . love . . . you. . . ."

Sleep claimed her.

**. . .**

**A/N:** Hope you liked it! Let me know in a review!

Next chapter will be wrapping everything up. I'm sorry if it feels too fast for some of you guys who have been following the story for awhile, but I have a ton of plotbunnies hopping around in my head. I have to get rid of some of them or it gets crowded up there.

The next story – the better term is semi-story – I am going to be working on is tentatively called **The Sorting Hat**. I'll give you more details next chapter.


	10. Epilogue: Seven Hundred and Fifty Nine

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Remus Lupin. Someday. . . .

**A/N: **I know – an update this soon! I really wanted to get this chapter out before the final movie.

**A/N: **Dedicated to the amazing Jo Rowling whose speech at the London premiere of the final movie helped inspire this chapter.

WE LOVE YOU, JO!

Enjoy!

**Epilogue: Seven Hundred and Fifty-Nine**

_July 21, 2008 – 11:30 AM_

Parker Ave. was a good place to live by all accounts. The neighbors were courteous, the lawns always neat and well-manicured. At night, no rowdy teenagers raced up the street and smoking was, unofficially, prohibited by all residents.

There was, however, no prohibition against clunker cars.

Breathing heavily, hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel, Gareth Morgan pulled up to park in front of Number 16.

"Good car." He sighed in relief as he turned off the ignition. The car seemed to echo his sentiments, coughing deeply as it nearly collapsed into the pavement.

_Great. . . ._

Quite abruptly, the driver's-side door swung open; all his worries evaporated as he was enveloped in a tight embrace.

"You came, I'm so glad you came . . . come on, everyone's inside." Giving him a quick kiss, Diana took Gareth's hand to help pull him out of the car.

"Everyone? I thought only Kate was coming."

"Oh, well, I checked around. Sarah and Melinda are here, too; Angela's busy with some animal rights thing. . . . Anyway, I guess you'll be the only guy," she teased, eyes bright.

"Surrounded by Potterholic women, what more could a guy ask for?" Gareth laughed, following her into the house. Taking in the bright decorations, the large table of refreshments, the gargantuan, lightning-bolt shaped cake, it felt nearly impossible to reconcile this Diana with the girl he had met nearly a year ago.

Morose and lank-haired as she was, they had nevertheless been bonded by mutual misery – not to mention the fact that she was extremely good-looking. Self-conscious, Gareth had attemped a few jokes, disappointed to have them fall flat as she retreated back into herself, finally leaving the meeting altogether.

It had been pure coincidence, that meeting at Borders only a few weeks later. Sitting in the cafe, her nose had been buried in the seventh volume, a mochaccino on the table beside her.

"Diana?" He had to be sure, she was hardly recognizable. A small smile tugged at her lips as she turned a page; she looked to be right near the end. Looking up at the sound of her name, he could see that her eyes held something he had never seen there before – life.

At that moment, he didn't think a veela could have been more beautiful.

For an instant her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking him over. Then, "It's . . . Gareth, right?"

"Yeah. You know, from PHA?"

"Yup, I remember." She nodded. After that first disastrous meeting, she had attempted to return, if only for the companionship of other fans. It was odd – she felt . . . _changed_. Then again, wandering around the city for several hours, dazed, could do that to a person. At least that was what the cops had told her. . . .

"How are you doing . . . since the sessions stopped?" he asked.

"Pretty good. You?"

"Pretty good," he echoed. "Just . . . um, rereading then?" Inwardly cursing himself for his awkwardness, Gareth later looked at that simple sentence as nothing short of a miracle – or, perhaps, another coincidence.

She had told him that, no, she wasn't rereading, she had never finished.

She had told him that, while he had lost Fred – his best friend – she had lost her lover, Remus Lupin.

She told him about the shrine and the wedding dress and the baby names.

He had told her about his disastrous attempts at making Ton-Tongue Toffee and Canary Creams and Skiving Snackboxes – his kitchen had never been the same again.

They had laughed until tears streamed down both their faces, until they clutched at stitches in their chests.

"See you next week?" Momentarily tongue-tied, she had left with her friend – he later learned her name was Kate – before he could formulate an answer.

But then again, what choice did he have?

And so it had gone.

"You're here! Guys, he's _here_!" Blond hair temporarily obscured his face as Kate threw her arms around him.

"We can see that, Kate, thanks," Melinda retorted. "Are we gonna get this show on the road or not?" Her long, neon-green nails beat a tattoo against the countertop. Gareth fought the urge to roll his eyes; though she could be bitchy at times, Melinda cared about the series as much as the rest of them.

And, despite their different backgrounds, that was what had brought them all together.

Gareth forced himself to swallow past the sudden, sizable knot in his throat – _c'mon Morgan, you're suppose to be the tough one here –_ jolting back to reality as Diana began to speak.

"One year ago today, millions of people across the globe celebrated the release of this book" - Diana held up her own copy of _Deathly Hallows _- "and many of those same people saw this as the end of an era. But not for us."

Kate nodded emphatically.

"For us," Diana continued, "it brought us together. For us, Harry Potter will never be over. So . . . more than Harry's year anniversary, I wanted to celebrate the anniversary of . . . us. I know it sounds cheesy, but . . . well, reading this book – this _series_ – changed us all in some elementary way so . . . by some weird magic or fate or whatever, we came together."

"I say magic." Sarah raised her hand in a mock-vote, grinning.

She would never have done that before, Gareth reflected. Sarah had always been the shyest of their little group. Diana was right, Harry Potter _had _changed them – it had created their friendship, it had healed their wounds.

"I think we could all say we've been through the best and worst times of our lives with these books. And I thought it would be nice if each of us could just read out a passage that really just . . . spoke to us. That told us it's okay, that it's not over" - _that he's not gone_ - "that it's alright to go on with our lives because Harry" - _Remus _- "he'll always be there to lean on."

Silence and then, "Hear, hear!" Kate called.

Diana managed a self-conscious smile; nevertheless, she looked slightly uncomfortable as no one volunteered a passage. All held their own copies, pages flipped now and then as they thought about this sudden new assignment.

"I'll go first," Gareth stated, squeezing her hand as he turned to a marked page in his own book.

Diana managed an inconspicuous _thank you _amidst the sudden snapping-shut of books as he had known she would. Despite her new attitude, she was still not comfortable putting her weakness on display; too vulnerable to being ripped apart by any unthinking comment.

And so Gareth read, barely stifling his laughter:

"_How do you feel, Georgie?" whispered Mrs. Weasley._

_George's fingers groped for the side of his head._

"_Saintlike," he murmured._

"_What's wrong with him?" croaked Fred, looking terrified. "Is his mind affected?"_

"_Saintlike," repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. "You see . . . I'm holy. _Holey, _Fred, geddit?"_

_Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever. Color flooded Fred's pale face._

"_Pathetic," he told George. "Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for _holey_?"_

"_Ah well," said George, grinning at his tear-soaked mother. "You'll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum."_

"Even in the worst of times, the twins are always able to crack a joke or three," Gareth explained once the room's laughter had quieted. "Whenever I'm having a bad day, I just bring one of their pranks to mind."

"I'll have to try that," Melinda mused. "Anyway, I'll go next."

Looking relieved, Diana nodded for her to go on.

"_I dunno," said Ron. "Sometimes I've thought, when I've been a bit hacked off, he was having a laugh or – or he just wanted to make it more difficult. But I don't think so, not anymore. He knew what he was doing when he gave me the Deluminator, didn't he? He – well,"Ron's ears turned bright red and he became engrossed in a tuft of grass at his feet, which he prodded with his toe, "he must have known I'd run out on you."_

"_No," Harry corrected him. "He must've known you'd always want to come back."_

Following Gareth, Melinda gave an explanation of her own. "I guess Ichose this for two reasons. Ron, well . . . he fucked up, right? But Harry and Hermione, they just took him back. . . ."

"Hermione let him have it first though," Sarah added.

"He _was _a bit of a dick, though, you have to admit," said Kate.

"My point," Melinda continued, semi-impatiently, "is that he had good enough friends to do that, to accept him with no – well, very _few –_ questions asked. And, do _not _try and enter my personal bubble for this, but . . . I guess I'm starting to feel that way about you guys. And don't you _aww _either," she snapped as the room did just that.

"And your other reason?" Gareth asked.

"Like Harry said, you can always come back. It's never really over as long as someone's loyal to it."

There was no teasing _aww _this time, merely silence until, in a strangely hoarse voice, Kate announced her turn.

_He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, "_Gryffindor!_"_

_Harry heard Snape let out a tiny groan. Lily took off the hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, then hurried toward the cheering Gryffindors, but as she went she glanced back at Snape, and there was a sad little smile on her face. Harry saw Sirius move up the bench to make room for her. She took one look at him, seemed to recognize him from the train, folded her arms, and firmly turned her back on him._

_The roll call continued. Harry watched Lupin, Pettigrew, and his father join Lily and Sirius at the Gryffindor table. At last, when only a dozen students remained to be sorted, Professor McGonagall called Snape._

_Harry walked with him to the stool, watched him place the hat upon his head. "_Slytherin!_" cried the Sorting Hat._

_And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins were cheering him, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him. . . ._

"You all know how Di and I were best friends since we were little, the same as Snape and Lily," Kate began. "When I moved, I thought I would lose contact with Di just like Snape screwed up with Lily 'cause they were Sorted into different houses. I know now that's not true; Di and I talked every day and, I dunno why, but for some reason, my parents eventually decided to move back up here."

"Magic!" Sarah's hand went up again, fist-pumping the air in excitement.

"I guess this showed me that true friends, they never really go away, never turn their back on you. Even Snape, even after he called Lily that . . . that word, he always loved her. He protected Harry all those years in honor of _her_. Kinda makes you wonder, if he had been Sorted into Gryffindor. . . ."

"Another idea for the realm of fan-fics, I guess." Diana laughed, exchanging a smile with her best friend that said more than words every could.

_I love you, too, Kate. But my Remmy is so much hotter than your Ceddy._

Yes, something like that.

Reluctantly, Diana nevertheless felt it necessary to volunteer her own passage. This had been her idea, after all. It was Sarah's few lines that delegated her to the last – _but certainly not least –_ spot.

"_He'll be all right," murmured Ginny._

_As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead._

"_I know he will."_

_The scar had not pained Harry in nineteen years. All was well._

"And it will be."

No one needed to ask what Sarah meant by that. They already knew; they had already answered it, each in their own way.

They could always go back.

They could always laugh.

They would always have Harry Potter.

And what did Diana have to say? The unspoken question seemed to hover in the air around them, next to red and gold balloons and party streamers. It hovered above the table where the cake and other goodies waited expectantly; already, Diana could see Gareth eying them hungrily. Of course he wouldn't say anything, he was too nice a guy for that. They would all wait, bonded by the brightly-colored book they all held.

But Diana was tired of waiting.

Ever since that balmy August night – or was it early morning? - the cops had dragged her in off the street and dialed her home. They had found a girl matching the description of Diana Marie Lark. Yes, she'd be right here. No, she wasn't hurt.

She didn't know how long it was till Alan and Rachel burst through the doors of the station, demanding to see their daughter. Alan had wrapped her in a bone-crushing embrace. Didn't she know she was lucky to be alive?

_Didn't she know she was lucky to be alive?_

Her parents had announced their divorce in January – she believed it had only been finalized a month or so ago – but those words had stayed with her.

Yes, she did, and she was going to live . . . to the best of her ability, at least.

She had started dating Gareth and had made friends of Sarah, Angela, and Melinda. Hell, she had set this entire celebration up.

Still though, she was hesitant to tell people about _Him_.

Gareth squeezed her hand. _You can do this, trust me, _that squeeze said. _Trust me like you trusted Thaddeus._

Dr. Linnaeus? Her brain rebelled against the very notion. Much as she hated to admit it, her father had been right on that count – he had been a fraud, skipping town with Aiden and the rest of them.

Alan, of course, had sworn eternal vengeance, promising that "he won't be able to get a job scrubbing toilets when _I'm _through with him."

However, any attempts to black-list Dr. Thaddeus Linnaeus had met with confusion. Who was this doctor? They had never heard of him, was he sure he had the right name?

Well, it wasn't too common a name was it, Alan had barked over the line.

While her father developed an ulcer, Diana had given up, attributing Linnaeus's disappearance, yet again, to that magic of coincidence.

_Trust me, trust me, trust me. . . . _Her head pounded with the mantra.

_Trust who?_ Her friends? Herself?

Diana read:

"_I didn't want you to die," Harry said. These words came without his volition. "Any of you. I'm sorry -"_

_He addressed Lupin more than any of them, beseeching him._

"_- right after you'd had your son . . . Remus, I'm sorry -"_

"_I am sorry too," said Lupin. "Sorry I will never know him . . . but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life."_

Choked, Diana traced those last three words. "A happier life," she whispered.

All would be well. Eventually.

**. . .**

_Eventually._ _All will be well – eventually._

_ Trust me._

_ Trust me because Diana's story is all of yours._

_ It wasn't over then and it won't be over now. It doesn't end just because the fad has faded, just because the publishing-houses and film producers say so._

_ It – _we –_ live through you every day._

_ All we ask is that you live in return._

_ Live and learn and love._

_ We will never be gone until none are loyal to us._

_ Maybe not even then . . . you've read the story._

_ Whether it's fiction is up to you._

_I remain sincerely yours,_

_Thaddeus R. Linnaeus_

_General Psychologist_

**. . .**

**A/N: **So, how'd ya like it? Initially, I was going to end it at the end of Diana's story; this ending only occurred to me recently with all the hubbub about this being "the end."

As Jo says, "Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home."

Let me know what you thought – just click that little link down there. . . .

**A/N: **So . . . it's over. Took me several years to write, but I did it. I hope you enjoyed reading. :D

The next story I will be working on – tentatively titled **The Sorting Hat –** isn't really a story at all but a series of one-shots along with an almost-literal "sorting hat."

Confused? I'll explain.

Every Harry Potter character's name will be put on a slip of paper; those slips of paper will be put in a hat – or a can or whatever I can find – and, every other day or so, two names will be chosen.

I will write a one-shot with those two characters as the central players. Genres can range from romance to angst to crack-fics, I'm sure there'll be plenty of crazy combinations.

At the beginning of each story or "chapter," I will state the genre and the two characters so you don't need to search through, hoping for something vaguely interesting.

Let me know if you'd be interested in something like this.

I will begin writing after the final movie comes out since I want to be able to scream and sob without worrying about how I can possibly put Merope Gaunt and Cho Chang together. :P BUT – and I can't believe I'm saying this – do not be afraid to BUG THE CRAP OUT OF ME about it. I can be lazy about stuff like that – why do you think you had to wait so long between some updates? - so send me PM's, reviews – I like reviews :) - whatever, but they'll help get me writing!

The next time I talk to you I will have seen the final movie!


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